


Friction

by Lacerta09 (lovelyannelid)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Dom!Kylo, Dom/sub, Enemies to Lovers, Erotic Horror, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasms, Handcuffs, Horror, Hux's Tragic Past, Kneeling, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Rape, Mindbreak, Rape, Slapping, Torture, Whump, crazy kylo ren, extremely dominant Kylo, hux is a good boy and he's doing his best, intense hatred, it'll take ten chapters for them to kiss sorry, kylo ren becomes increasingly possessive, non-con, slowburn, slowest of slowburns, spitting, two cats hissing at each other, virgin!Hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyannelid/pseuds/Lacerta09
Summary: Snoke sends Kylo and Hux on a mission. Kylo has a lot to learn about the Dark Side and desire, and Hux is the perfect tool to use to teach him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: So this is set after TFA and we'll pretend there is enough time for all of this to take place or something. just enjoy the slowest of slowburns. I love enemies to lovers, don't you?
> 
>  
> 
> -if you can't handle them really really hating each other to start you're gonna have a bad time amigo.  
> -Some chapters will be longer, some will be shorter. This one is long because it's setting everything up.  
> -Because it's setup there's no sex in this chapter. Sorry!
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Leave a comment if you liked it!

Friction

 

Every time Kylo Ren watched that contemptible ginger fuck blather away, the desire to punch the miserable prick's face bloody rose like a viper.

Kylo hated Hux, and his hatred for Hux was closely matched only by his virulent contempt of the same man. Kylo nurtured both of these passions with attention; great depth of emotion meant greater power. The Dark Side turned weakness into strength, Kylo knew. The more Hux enraged him, the stronger he would be. 

At that moment, watching General Hux speak proudly to Snoke of some successful military jaunt, Kylo felt humiliated and not at all powerful. Not that the redhead had actually captured the girl, the traitor or the rebels, but he was close, closer than Kylo. And Snoke was looking at Hux with a predatory look of ownership usually reserved for Lord Ren. 

Hux sensed the Lord Ren's eyes on him. He didn't lose a beat in his report to the Supreme Leader, but after a moment of basking, Hux's angled face cracked then reformed into an oilslick of a smirk. 

Was that knowing smirk meant for him? Was it a challenge? It didn't matter. What mattered was that Hux wasn't afraid of him. And if Hux wasn't afraid of him, no one was. Not since he'd let the scavenger brat escape with the traitor when he'd failed to turn her. A critical failure at a crucial time. 

I'll kill him, thought Kylo savagely as he had many times before. The wound in his side throbbed angrily as his entire body tensed with fury. He weighed the option to kill Hux and prove his worth to Snoke once and for all. In the con category, it might slow the Supreme Leader's efforts temporarily if Hux died. But, Kylo considered, Snoke would find some other intolerable General somewhere. The First Order was littered with heroes. It wasn't like Hux wasn't infinitely replaceable. So sure, yes, he'd kill Hux and then the common soldiers would fear him again, as would be good and proper.

As intent crystallized, something must have curdled in the atmosphere around him, because Snoke silenced the General with a single raised finger. 

“Very good, General,” Snoke said, looking at the Lord Ren curiously. “You will leave us now and wait outside.”

Hux swivelled his head and met Ren's gaze, and did not flinch at what he saw there. Ren extended the barest influence of cruelty to sense the ginger's thoughts, and met a cold set of ruthless calculations. The clockwork dissection and analysis of reality reminded Kylo of a surgical-droid, or perhaps a giant spider. 

“General,” said Snoke when Hux lingered. “I do hate to repeat myself...” 

“Supreme Leader,” the General said, and clicked his heels together as he came to attention, posture even more perfect than before. He bowed, turned, and swept past Kylo without acknowledgement. 

The door closed, and Kylo faced his master's hologram alone. 

“My child,” began Snoke with a bored, disadainful tone. “A droid could have read your aura. Have I taught you nothing of deception?”

“I don't care if he knows I intend to kill him,” snapped Kylo. “He should know.”

“And what has he done to pique this delicious rage, my child?” asked Snoke, ruined eyebrows arcing in feigned delight. 

Kylo looked directly into the eyes of the hologram. 

“He doesn't fear me.”

“Is that all?” the diseased man said. He laughed darkly as he shifted on his throne, lips pursed in a mocking smirk. “Is that all you have to say? Because all I hear is the howling of a defeated, second-place dog.”

“I'm sick of him,” seethed Kylo. His hands clenched into tight fists. “He doesn't know his place. He mocks the power of the Dark Side!”

“He mocks you! And you're mockable!” snapped Snoke. “You let your emotions cloud your cunning! Your passions are powerful, my child, so powerful—but they must be your fuel and your food, not your master!”

Kylo grit his teeth. He was larger than most humans, but Snoke always managed to make him feel about ten centimetres tall. 

Snoke met the Lord Ren's furious eyes with his resolute, disappointed scorn. Kylo churned through possible refutations, but found none. His gaze flickered, and broke. He looked to the floor between Snoke's feel, frustrated. 

“Good,” murmured the Supreme Leader as he watched his apprentice's turmoil grow. “Good. Even this humiliation; use it. Focus your insight. Sharpen it. Cut through your own ignorance. And tell me, what do you want? What prompted this?”

“I want to kill Hu—no,” Kylo said, correcting himself. He wouldn't allow his emotion to blind his cunning. He obeyed his master and turned his attention inward. What was beneath his desire to murder General Hux? 

Rage that he was not feared. Self-hatred for his failure to turn the Force-sensitive scavenger. Greed for more power with the Force.

And beneath that? 

Fear. 

A lot of fear. 

Kylo forgot where he stood as he marveled in fascination and awe. The fear in his own heart was vast and deep like an ocean of black despair. Fear of Snoke striking him down. Fear that he would regret killing Han Solo. Fear of faces in the night and dreams of childhood and youth. Fear of what he would do to his mother. Fear of the mirror and his own odd, scarred face.

He sucked in a terse breath through his nose and refocused his gaze on Snoke's feet. 

“I am afraid, master.”

“And this fear is powerful, is it not?”

“It is, master,” Kylo said. He swallowed. “It is relentless and infinite.”

Snoke shifted forward on his throne. “Then you see the power of the Dark Side, my child. Relentless. Inifinite. If you would be its master, you must have access to this raw power at every moment without seeking to destroy its source. A box of poison is still a gift. Do you understand?” 

Kylo's brow furrowed. He looked up.

“I think so. Don't run from what provokes me. Use it.”

“Embrace the pain. Embrace the Darkness, my apprentice,” Snoke said. The place where an eyebrow should have been raised over one sunken eye. He sank back against his throne. “Embrace Hux.”

Kylo made a sound of frustration. “I see now that the rage he provokes gives me greater power, but—embrace him? Master, what do you mean?”

“What form it takes is your concern,” Snoke said. “But this conversation has solidified certain eventualities... you will see. Now, go and fetch the General. Bring him back here, I have a task for each of you.”

Mollified and more than a little confused by what his master meant, Kylo turned and paced across the large chamber to the door, opened it with a Force palm, and glanced around for the ginger. 

Hux stood at ease some few steps to the right side of the doorframe, hands gathered loosely behind his back and expression nonplussed. 

“Well, Ren, are you done your magic lesson?” Hux asked, wry. 

“He wants to see us both,” Kylo said, unamused. “A task.”

Hux fell into step alongside Ren, and the two men walked side by side into the chamber. When they stood assembled before their Supreme Leader, Hux took in the atmosphere between the master and his apprentice. Clearly, the Lord Ren's knuckles had been rapped. 

His posture remained perfect, but inwardly Hux's tensions eased. He wasn't being muscled out by some Force-witch. 

“Sir,” Hux said, pointedly ignoring Kylo. “You have a task for me?”

“Yes,” said the Supreme Leader. “A task of great importance.”

Interest piqued, General Hux shifted on his feet but remained silent. 

“A human by the name of Lando Calrissian is a possible source of information about Skywalker. They are former associates,” Snoke said. The Supreme Leader's hologram flickered and vanished, swiftly replaced by a full body rotating hologram of a tall, dark-skinned, human male who sported a dashing cape and twin blasters. “He hides in Hutt space, and bribes his way out of our grasp time and time again. Find him, extract everything worth knowing, and kill him.”

General Hux couldn't believe his luck. The honour of killing an associate of the last Jedi master was absolutely unprecedented. Warm, grisly joy spread through Hux. He straightened, chin lifted. His place was absolutely secured. 

“Yes, Supreme Leader!” he said, coolly masking his utter delight at being tossed such a juicy bone.

To one side, Kylo Ren was not feeling warm, grisly joy. He looked to Snoke's hologram as it restored shape, and only the scolding he'd just endured prevented him from another outburst. This was outrageous! Kylo grit his teeth hard and sucked in a breath as Snoke continued. 

“You will have every ship, every resource at your disposal. I want you to spare no effort in hunting this man like an animal. Do you understand, General?” 

“Yes, Supreme Leader! I will not fail you.” said Hux. With every ship and soldier the First Order had, how could he fail?

“And you,” Snoke said, dragging his gaze to the furious Kylo. “You will go together. You will share command. Two leaders, each having veto power over the other. A twin headed viper.”

Better, thought Kylo, still unhappy with shared command. But there was a certain pleasure at watching colour drain from Hux's pale face. Just a moment before he'd been so puffed up with delight at being head of an elite mission. Now...

“Sir,” Hux started.

“Understood?” Snoke snarled. 

Hux nodded. 

“Understood, Supreme Leader. As you wish,” he said, eyes lowered.

“Ren?” asked Snoke, clearly not brooking any kind of disagreement. 

“Master,” said Kylo with the start of an objection to this absurd situation; a Lord placed on par with a mere officer! But a glance to Snoke made him abort that idea mid-sentence. “It... will be as you command.”

“Yes, it will,” Snoke said, tone imperious. “Don't forget what we discussed here today.”

His hologram vanished, leaving the two men alone in the large receiving chamber. 

Now unwatched, Hux relaxed from his military posture. He clasped his hands behind his back once more and rounded on Kylo. 

“And just what did you discuss?” he asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Things concerning the Force that you couldn't understand,” Kylo replied, tone grave. Hux was infuriating. Didn't he care that his life could be snuffed out in a moment?

“Eye of newt versus hair of tauntaun?” asked the General, snide. He smirked, the perfect picture of the perfect military man. Kylo felt irritation clog his throat at how close Hux was, at how close they'd have to be in the days to come.

Kylo longed to reach out and crush Hux's throat with the Force, but he couldn't, so instead he reached out and gripped the collar of Hux's pristine uniform. Larger, taller, broader and stronger than the other man, the Lord Ren dragged Hux in close. 

“I'll show you the power of the Dark Side,” hissed Ren, looming over the ginger. 

“You can have whatever shade Side you want,” Hux sneered up into Ren's face, refusing to let his very real fear show on his face. “I'll take tank-conditioned troopers and a cruiser any day. Let go of me.”

Kylo was supposed to embrace him. Embrace him how, though? Surely, the Supreme Leader didn't mean something so crude as sex. Even the thought made Ren want to pound Hux's face into the flooring. How was he supposed to embrace a dry, passionless, pasty-faced nerd? 

The Lord Ren stared into Hux's eyes for a moment, looking for the fear he could sense with the Force. He saw nothing in Hux's eyes, and that small victory irritated the Lord Ren. Kylo pushed a tendril of malice into the General's mind, and let it scrape roughly through the man's consciousness. He intruded further, scratched at the door where Hux kept his personal memories locked away. What kind of childhood had he had?

“Let—go!” Hux spat, lip curled. His jaw tensed, his breathing quickened, but still he contained the potent fear and pain racing through his system. 

“Or what?” 

The answer was swift. Hux's fist struck Kylo in his blaster-wound. 

Pain shattered Kylo's concentration as he doubled over. Hux stepped out of the other man's grasp, and adjusted his uniform while the black haired man hissed out breath after agonized breath. 

“Are you finished?” Hux asked. He flicked his head, heart hammering in his chest despite his cool exterior. “Because we have a mission to plan.”

Kylo grit his teeth so hard he thought his molars would crack. Today was just full of ups and downs, and it took conscious effort to remember his master's 'box of poison' analogy. Side aching, Kylo limped over to a metal bench and sat heavily. He could feel warm wetness over his hip, and could guess that some of his stitches had ruptured. 

“Fine,” Kylo said. He placed one hand to where it hurt, then rubbed his fingers. Blood. No matter, he'd just get stitched up again. “We'll take one of ours. Almost everything we have is better than Hutt trash.”

“A single ship?” said the ginger, incredulous. He shook his head. “No. We're taking ships, plural. If we're going to Hutt space, we're going to make an entrance. Possibly seize some territory from the filthy aliens.”

“Veto,” scoffed the brunette. “We're not dividing the fleet. And Hutt space is worthless, we don't want it. A single modified corvette will do.”

“A corvette!” exclaimed the General. He barked out a laugh. “Absurd, Ren.”

Ren shook his dark-haired head. 

“We're not depleting the fleet at a time like this. If you're afraid, wait here and I'll go alone,” Kylo said, the challenge obvious. He raised his eyebrows. “When's the last time you were without a retinue, General?”

Hux exhaled a breath, gaze cold.

Kylo reached out with his mind, but this time he used skill to slip past the steely expression and sink into Hux's emotions without the man knowing. He gazed in and saw—yes.

“You're afraid,” the Lord Ren breathed. 

Hux froze.

Kylo's eyes flicked up to meet the other man's, and the shocked expression was all the confirmation the brunette needed. He retreated from Hux's mind and sat back against the metal wall, triumphant.

“You're afraid,” he repeated. “When was the last time you were alone in the field?”

“With someone who wanted my head to watch my back?” Hux asked, pale eyes narrowing. “What kind of gibbering idiot wouldn't be afraid of a suicide mission?” 

Kylo grunted. 

“I don't trust you, Ren,” Hux said. “So I'll go into Hutt space my way, and you go your way. Snoke said I had every ship at my disposal.”

“No,” Kylo said. He shook his head, hand resting on his wounded side. “The Supreme Leader also said we go together.”

“That's not happening,” the General retorted. “Because you'll kill me the moment you can. Besides, you just threatened to go alone!”

The larger man thunked his head back against the metal wall. Box of poison as a gift. Box of poison as a gift. Focus. Work. Try. Master it, don't let it master you.

“I lied. What if,” Kylo started carefully. “I promised to obey Snoke. We go and return together. Which means we watch each other's backs.”

“One, you just lied—so how can I possibly trust you?” asked Hux. He crossed his arms across his chest, jaw set and expression hard. “And two, I'm not going without a squad of elite troopers.”

The Lord Ren exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand. Blood from his wound marked his brow, but he didn't notice. Neither man looked at the other, each on the other side of a deep crevasse.

“I can—I can swear to you,” Kylo offered at last. 

Hux looked over suspiciously.

“On what?”

Kylo thought a moment.

“On my honour--”

Hux laughed.

“On my belief in the power of the Dark Side.”

The ginger shifted on his feet and Kylo pressed what he could sense was a thaw. 

“I swear to you on my belief in the power of the Dark Side,” the brunette said, meeting the ginger-haired man's gaze evenly despite the agony in his side. “I swear that I will take you-”

“And a squad of elite troopers,” interjected Hux.

“And a squad of elite troppers,” agreed Kylo wearily. “Into Hutt space and I will return you alive. You have my belief to believe in. Agreed?”

The General exhaled, turning the situation over in his mind. Finally, he nodded. 

“I pick the troopers,” Hux said. 

“Fine,” Ren said. He shifted forward and rose to his feet, ignoring the pain radiating from his side. The pain was relentless, and Kylo drew strength from the discomfort. “It's 15:35 now. I'll prepare the ship. We leave at 06:00.”

“Very well. I'll make my preparations,” Hux said, and he turned, walked towards the door without another word. He hit the button, but paused at the open frame. “Oh, and Ren?”

Kylo grunted. 

“Don't ever touch me like that again,” Hux said over his shoulder. “Next time you'll really regret it.”

He didn't wait for a reply, and passed through the threshold. The door whisked shut. 

Kylo scrubbed a hand across his face, blood smearing over his cheeks and brow, and he swallowed a frustrated, agonized groan of torment. Already, he could tell the next week would be an absolute trial.


	2. oncoming storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Kylo are en route to extract the criminal Lando Calrissian from his Hutt world hideout, but first they have to work out a few mission details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. who's your box of poison?  
> 2\. Don't get mad at Hux for turning up his nose at a Corellian corvette. He's an important general and those are basically the Honda Civics of Star Wars. They can be nice, sure, but they're not really gonna pop any monocles off. My sweet wretched trash cat needs expensive whips !! n e e d s !! do you hear me?  
> 3\. This chapter heats up fast when Kylo plays Soggy Biscuit with Hux and the Troopers !!!!I'M KIDDING!!! No sex in this chapter but we're getting there!!!! step! by! step!  
> 4\. I've been listening to super good soundtracks while I write. I love the Interstellar, Tron and Bladerunner: 2049 soundtracks.  
> 5\. TRIGGER WARNING: there is child abuse content in this chapter. Not prolonged or gruesome, but it's there. You've been warned, mes amis

Friction

Chapter 02

 

 

 

As Kylo swept a dark path towards the flight deck's airlock at 05:53, he sensed a trooper reaching out to push the door button on the other side. The Lord Ren flicked his gloved finger, and before the trooper could touch, the airlock sprang open. The soldier jumped back and away, helmeted face moving between hand and panel in confusion and alarm.

 

Behind his mask, Kylo's lips curved in amusement. It was a cheap trick, true, but first impressions were important, and Kylo made a much better entrance by sweeping in without a pause to activate the door.

 

His cheap trick worked, because the Lord Ren could sense nervousness and mild unease in the twelve trooper minds assembled under the corvette. Hux faced his soldiers, hands clasped behind his black greatcoat, uniform and posture precise. As the Lord Ren approached, the troopers came to attention and Hux turned round.

 

“Lord Ren,” Hux started. “Is this the vessel you've chosen? It's rather generic. Corellian, is it not?”

 

“It is,” Kylo replied, voice low and crackling through the mask. “We're keeping a low profile, General. Any complaints?”

 

“I assume it's been modified...” the pale man said, looking up at the armour-plated hull. His tone left the question and dislike hanging in the air.

 

“Heavily,” said Ren, impatient. The General may have cared for parades, speeches, and inspections, but Kylo was much more utilitarian.

 

Hux exhaled in annoyance at that incomplete answer, and gestured for the troopers to board the ship. With military precision, all twelve soldiers turned in unison and marched up the ramp. An astromech droid whistled from the top, scanning each one as they passed for their serial numbers and ranks.

 

“General,” the Lord Ren said before the redhead could follow.

 

Hux paused at the bottom of the ramp and shot the masked man a questioning look.

 

“Low profile, General,” Ren repeated, synthesized voice low and ragged. “You'll need different clothes.”

 

“I surmised as much when you insisted on a single ship,” the ginger man said stiffly. “I'll change on board. I wasn't about to traipse around in civilian clothes for the rank and file to see.”

 

Behind his mask, Kylo's mouth curved once more in amusement. He'd never seen General Hux with so much as a hair out of place. Now he'd see him in 'civilian dress'. Certain that the General was an uncomfortable as Kylo hoped, the Lord Ren brushed a finger across the man's mind and tasted it.

 

Yes, the General dreaded the outfit alteration. Preference for a uniform was so deeply engrained in the man that Hux felt twinges of real anxiety over casual dress. Kylo suppressed a pleasured shudder. Perhaps this trip wouldn't be entirely awful. If he continued to find new ways to humiliate and off-balance the General, it might approach entertaining. Is this what the Supreme Leader had meant?

 

“Let's be off,” Ren ordered.

 

Hux mounted the ramp first, closely followed by the Lord Ren. After a moment, the astromech closed the airlock, sealing them all safely inside.

 

 

-

 

 

The ship itself was, as Kylo reported, heavily modified. Once a civilian model used by Order-sympathetic pirates and mercenaries in the Outer Rim to move troops to and from battlefields as quickly as possible, the reinforced structure hid beefy, oversized engines behind thick armour plating.

 

Multipurpose in nature, the _Perseverance_ had served turns as a cargo, troop or passenger carrier, and had even taken part in the occasional border skirmish before larger ships arrived.

 

Despite this military history, a communal dining hall with no separate hall for commissioned officers denoted the civilian construction of the ship. While eating together was one thing, neither Lord Ren nor General Hux would tolerate sleeping among their social inferiors. But to both Hux's and Ren's approval, the Corellian corvette had been constructed by people with inborn class biases; there were spacious officers' quarters near the cockpit, while the dozen troopers would sleep in bunks near the engines and storage.

 

A small medbay hosted a modern medical droid and a bacta tank, the astromech worked on the bridge, and a skeletal bronze maintenance droid served as general attendant to the General and the Lord Ren.

 

No one could call the _Perseverance_ an ornate vessel, and that was partially why Ren had chosen the unassuming, spartan thing. Low profile.

 

He settled into the rightmost pilot's chair on the bridge and exhaled a breath. They were on their way. Hux had disappeared, ostensibly to change into something less formal, so Kylo gestured for the astromech to approach.

 

It buzzed an affirmative and trundled forward, extending a plug to interface with the navigation computer. Wordlessly, Ren plotted a course for Hutt space with the droid, his gloved hand flashing over the input panels. Inside, his thoughts wandered.

 

Embrace the darkness, embrace the source of frustration, embrace Hux...

 

The ship rose in the air, landers retracted, and slipped through the dreadnought's launchpad force-field. Fast as quicksilver, the corvette streaked away from the enormous vessel and off into the coldness of hostile space.

 

He was trying. He was doing a good job, too. Kylo hadn't fantasized about murdering Hux in over twenty-four hours. He'd choked him a little while grabbing Hux's collar, but they came out square when Hux punched him in the blaster wound. He'd even agreed to watch the ginger fuck's back after that. No one could say Ren wasn't trying.

 

He sensed a human male nearing the bridge, and a cursory glance at the cool, mechanical ambition informed Kylo that Hux had finished dressing.

 

“We've launched,” said Hux from the entrance. He didn't sound pleased.

 

“I can see why you have five stars with observational skills like that, Hux,” the brunette said, swivelling the pilot's chair away from the droid to face the other man.

 

Hux wore a black thigh-length tunic with a red-threaded square collar, and beneath that a grey shirt with a high collar. A leather belt affixed with overlaying brass rings hung from Hux's hips, and his legs were covered in a thick, black, loose cotton pant. Black shin-high boots protected his feet, and overtop of it all Hux wore a deep green woollen military greatcoat. Even though no part of his outfit was military issue, the General seemed to have found himself a version of his old uniform.

 

The redhead moved away from the door, and Kylo saw a flash of blaster when the coat shifted.

 

“Where exactly are we going in Hutt space, Ren?” Hux asked, answering his own question as he peered at the display. “Dandoran! How are we entering the Slice?”

 

“Milagro,” Kylo replied, still staring at the General in his civilian clothes. Without the rank and insignia, without the backdrop of a dreadnought, without the jet black uniform, Hux looked somehow more vulnerable. More like a human. More like a person.

 

Kylo thought of the previous day, when his mind brushed against Hux's. The other man's mental world resembled a spider's or a surgical-droid's. It was unusual then, but now the contrast between Hux's handsome but unassuming outside and his predatory inside seemed surreal.

 

For the first time, the Lord Ren felt curiosity instead of contempt or disdain. What kind of upbringing influenced a child to become General of a fanatical military? How did Hux learn to hide his nature? And why had he noticed that Hux was 'handsome'?

 

Was this embracing the darkness? Because this didn't feel like strength. This was definitely poison. Kylo felt strange when he wondered about General Hux's childhood or noticed how the green greatcoat highlighted Hux's eyes. He felt uncomfortable. Less grounded.

 

Hux glared at the expressionless mask.

 

“I can feel you staring.”

 

“I'm not,” Kylo said, though he was. He turned away.

 

“I haven't chosen my own clothes for some time. If there's a problem, I expect you to tell me,” Hux said, voice cold with anger.

 

The Lord Ren looked at his navigation panel in silence, but at the same time gently broached the other man's mind with a tendril of Force. He found cold, freezing embarrassment coupled with hatred for Ren for somehow humiliating him.

 

“I'll inform you of anything you should know,” Kylo said, grateful for the mask's vocoder.

 

“Good,” said Hux viciously, closing the topic. He took a few steps in one direction, then paced back. Kylo could feel him burn with self-consciousness. Everything from the way his new clothes moved around his body to the way they smelled reminded Hux he wasn't in uniform. He felt naked without his command pips. “If we're headed to Dandoran, what can we expect once we're there?”

 

“Standard Hutt mercenaries,” the brunette reported. “Orbital stations with light ion-driven craft, ground cannon, and orbital shields. Irrelevant, because we'll go in undetected and extract Calrissian during the night. In and out in under six hours. I'm working on accessing the plans for the Balak Nah casino. My contacts have been less than forthcoming and I don't have time to, ah, 'motivate' them properly.”

 

Hux's eyes flickered at that and Ren sensed curiosity.

 

“Find a way to motivate those contacts,” Hux replied, tone cool. “Get me those floorplans. If my troops are to do an extraction, I want full simulations en route. No mistakes.”

 

Kylo nodded.

 

“And for our escape, what provisions have you made?” the General asked.

 

Kylo shrugged.

 

“We run like hell.”

 

“That's not a plan,” Hux scoffed, pacing back and forth once more. “Show me exactly whose space we'll be flying through. I'll backchannel some bribes and safe passage.”

 

“You're throwing away credits,” Kylo reminded him. “The Hutts are treacherous.”

 

“Better than your miserable nothing,” retorted Hux.

 

Again, Kylo shrugged.

 

“Very well,” he said. “Bribe them.”

 

Hux paced to the leftmost pilot's chair and turned it around. He sat with a rustle of unfamiliar fabric and took in the course readings. He tsk'd and looked to the masked man.

 

“Your course has terrible fuel efficiency,” he scolded. Hux's long, spider-like hands danced over the nav-com and the plotted line shifted. No longer fighting gravity wells and areas of dense matter, Hux effortlessly corrected Kylo's course to work with the natural topography of space.

 

Irritation flared in the Lord Ren. Hux's new course was objectively and aesthetically better, but Kylo rankled at having his hard work undone.

 

“We can refuel at Milagro,” he said, hating to be shown up.

 

“Weren't you the one worried about wasting credits?” asked Hux, his tone edging the line between polite and mocking.

 

Kylo ground his teeth, unable to reply. He fell silent and watched the other man finalize the altered course without further comment.

 

The ship shuddered as it dropped from hyperspace and assumed a new heading. The astromech whooped and beeped, feeding the nav-com new coordinates and once again a shudder ran through the hull. A burst of power was needed for another hyperspace jump, and the engines needed to charge.

 

Outside, an orange and purple gaseous nebula languidly swallowed ruptured, leaking stars into billowing clouds of hyper cooled debris and stellar dust. Orange and purple light bathed the bridge as the corvette soared past, engines roaring silently in the vacuum of space.

 

Hux squinted into the brilliance, face softened into a natural expression of awe at the cosmic spectacle before him. Patterns of light and dark played over Hux's high cheekbones and Kylo stared at the redhead, safe from scrutiny behind his mask.

 

There was no reason to have used the word handsome, Ren decided. Hux wasn't. Other people could find him handsome, Ren conceded, but there was zero reason reason for him to find another man's features pleasing. Even in passing. There was embracing frustration, and there was... whatever that was.

 

“You're staring again,” Hux said without turning his head.

 

“I'm not,” denied Kylo again.

 

Hux swivelled his pilot's chair to face the other man, expression curious.

 

“Ren, take off the mask.”

 

Ren remained silent. He did not move.

 

“This is supposed to be low profile. How is your infamous mask low profile?” Hux asked. A blur of purple light melted across his face, darkening his green eyes.

 

Kylo didn't want to take off the mask. He felt queasy enough from the line of questioning his master had sent him down. He wouldn't spend the mission barefaced if he could help it.

 

The other man waited, holding his own gaze in the mirrored glass of the Lord Ren's helmet as patterns of orange and deep purple light blurred around the cabin like a giant kaleidoscope.

 

“I'm serious,” the General said when it became clear Kylo wasn't moving. His pale eyes narrowed. “Take off the mask. If we're low profile, we're low profile. If you're wearing that mask, I'm wearing my regular uniform.”

 

“An Order General in Hutt space? It would attract attention,” the brunette said, aware he had no ground to stand on.

 

“Versus the Supreme Leader's executioner and student?” exclaimed Hux. The redheaded man's self-consciousness fed into his discomfort. He felt acutely observed and small when every other human being on board concealed their eyes.

 

Kylo, who could feel the growing anxiety, tried to enjoy Hux's distress. He had him perfectly ill-at-ease and off-balance, and few days of pseudo-solitary confinement would soften Hux up considerably.

 

But something wasn't right.

 

It wasn't that Hux's distress didn't feel good. It felt as good as it usually did, which was very. Kylo found immense enjoyment in other people's suffering. It was that Kylo felt another sensation with greater intensity: curiosity about what made the ginger tick.

 

After a few long moments, Kylo reached up and undid the clasps under his jaw. The mask hissed and shifted, retracted upwards and unhooked from his face. He pulled it off and set it on the console, lungs filling with the ship's atmosphere. The nebula and stars reflected darkly in the visor, colours muted.

 

Already the Lord Ren felt exposed, but his curiosity burned hot and hounded him to be satiated.

 

Hux looked triumphant for unmasking his rival, but when Ren met his eyes the redhead looked to the ever-shifting clouds outside. Kylo followed suit, and there was no sound save for the growing hum of charging engines. It was one thing to watch cosmic events from the safety of a ship the size of a metropolis. Floating in a tiny corvette was another thing, and only increased both men's feelings of vulnerability.

 

From the corner of one dark eye, the Lord Ren glimpsed the other man reaching to his collar to touch rank pips that weren't there.

 

Large chunks of inorganic debris eclipsed the dying stars, and the light streaming into the cabin dappled. The astromech whirred a long warble of appreciation.

 

Hux seemed enchanted, but the dark haired man couldn't sit in serenity and enjoy the natural wonder; his hunger for power over Hux and fulfillment of his curiosity broke the spell.

 

“Tell me, General,” Kylo started, and Hux's hand dropped from his civilian collar as if it had been burned. “When was the last time you were out of uniform and in deep space?”

 

The Lord Ren had chosen his time well; Hux had relaxed his guard to take in the nebula, and the question caught him broadside. Unbidden, dark and painful memories flickered and flashed across the surface of the redhead's mind like lightning crawling over the skin of furious storm clouds.

 

Ren inhaled, catching no episodes of memory in particular, but tasted the general sense of helplessness, grief and pain his question had provoked. Absolutely exquisite. Hux contained hidden recesses stuffed full of delightful suffering. If hate and pain were the keys to the Dark Side, then perhaps his rival would have his uses somehow?

 

Perhaps this is what his master intended when he told Kylo to embrace Hux and the Dark Side.

 

“Interesting,” Ren said, flat voice low.

 

“Stay out of my mind,” hissed Hux, rising sharply from his seat. He touched his temple with one hand and the other formed a fist. “Keep your dark witchings out of my thoughts.”

 

Kylo opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the ship lurched into hyperdrive. The cabin lights rose to full illumination, the stars outside stretched into long streaks, and the spell that had been cast over the cabin was broken. They were back on track, back in the real world, back to work.

 

Hux steadied himself with one hand on the leftmost pilot's chair. With decades of skilled practice, he folded the hurtful thoughts into small, neat packages and reburied them deep in his mind. The repression took seconds, and Kylo felt impressed despite himself at Hux's rapid mental transformation.

 

“If you're bored and looking for a toy,” the redhead added, tone savage. “Go find a trooper. They'd be honoured to have you sticking your greasy fingers into their brain, I'm sure, but you will treat _me_ with respect. Is that understood?”

 

Kylo looked away, uncaring. He wanted to mull over what he had seen in the other man's mind. There had been flashes of childhood and adolescence that intrigued the Lord Ren. When Kylo didn't respond, Hux hissed in annoyance.

 

“See that you find those casino floorplans, Ren,” the General added as he crossed the deck to the bridge's door. He pressed the panel and the door whisked open. Hux opened his mouth to say something else charged with emotion, but thought better of it and left without another word. The door whispered shut behind him.

 

Kylo, now alone on the bridge, exhaled into the relative silence. Hux could run, but he couldn't hide. They would be dining together at mealtimes, and their quarters were directly across the corridor from one another. They even shared a shower. There weren't a lot of places on board to escape.

 

One way or another, the Lord Ren would find the answers he wanted.

 

For now, however, Kylo had work to do motivating informants. He rose from the pilot's chair, picked his helmet from the console and tucked it under his arm. The holoterminal was in a conference room, and Ren needed privacy. It wouldn't do to have double agents exposed.

 

He crossed the floor and exited the bridge, leaving the astromech at the helm.

 

-

 

 

Hours passed as Kylo Ren made contact with informant after informant on the holoterminal, and dispatched message after message on his computer. Hutts were notoriously paranoid and vicious to traitors, and some informants simply dropped the call when they learned of Ren's target: the infamous Balak Nah casino. Impossible, they all agreed, couldn't be done.

 

The skeletal maintenance droid brought Kylo a tray of lunch with a cup of steaming tea, which the Lord Ren accepted as his due. He quickly ate and drank, and then returned to his efforts much refreshed. Refreshed or not, his labour yielded no fruit. The few agents with guts or greed enough to defy the Hutt Cartel had yet to respond to his dispatches, and the rest were too cowardly or stupid to be of any use.

 

As lead after lead turned to dead ends, Kylo leaned back in his chair with a growl of frustration. His shoulders ached from hunching over his computer, and he'd spent his day talking and typing instead of actually _doing_ anything. When he straightened in his chair, his spine popped loudly.

 

Kylo needed a break.

 

He pushed his chair back from the conference room table and rolled his shoulders. The stiff muscles resisted at first, and to his delight the gentle tinges of pain felt sweet and good. Kylo pushed his broad shoulders down and rolled his head first one way and then the other. Again, sweet tension resisted and ached gently as he stretched.

 

Pain was the answer. It always was.

 

What about the pain in Hux he'd glimpsed? Kylo relaxed into his chair, arms and legs splayed out in a picture of leisure. Yes, what about that pain... The Lord Ren closed his eyes and sharpened his focus to meditate.

 

The tall, dark haired man thought of the stormclouds he'd envisioned while tasting the other man's mind. They had been thick and angry, billowing like the nebula and crackling with torment and suffering. Kylo recalled the moment in his memory and floated before the stormfront.

 

Each cloud represented an emotion or memory Kylo could potentially read, but Hux's mental shorthand meant that Kylo wouldn't understand what he saw. A few snippets of memories, however, existed mostly intact in scenes caught by lightning flash.

 

The Lord Ren zeroed in on one scene potently charged with dark emotions: malice, satisfaction, triumph, but overshadowing all those feeling was a morbid sensation of total hollowness and meaninglessness.

 

The memory was from Hux's perspective. He was younger, not wearing a General's greatcoat but already wearing a commissioned officer's pants and bars. He stood in his private quarters alone in the evening. He looked down into the palm of his own hand, where a dried beetle husk lay.

 

This, the memory-Hux thought, this I did for the Order. And now the First Order rightfully belongs to me. So I'm glad I did it. I'd do it again.

 

Did what? wondered Kylo. What did a beetle have to do with the First Order?

 

The memory, however, ended there. He re-examined the memory, replayed it and then reversed it to try and squeeze out more context or emotion, but nothing was forthcoming. That was all Kylo had; a beetle, a uniform, and deep despair masked by grim satisfaction of goals accomplished.

 

The next memory was much more straightforward.

 

This time Hux was much younger; an adolescent still growing into his own limbs. He was on a temperate planet in a tall building, and the sun hung half secluded by dark rainclouds. The most noticeable thing, of course, wasn't the weather. It wasn't the posh, pristine apartment and high class furniture surrounding the teen. It was the lanky older man backhanding memory-Hux into a bookshelf.

 

Memory-Hux crumpled against the shelves and slid to the floor, mouth bleeding from biting his own lip. Humiliation, defeat, misery, hatred and deep shame permeated the young man, and Kylo could glean that this all had to do with his uniform. Something about his uniform being dirty?

 

“Disgusting,” said the tall, thin middle aged man as he stepped closer. He had short, neat hair hidden underneath an old style Imperial Navy officer's cap, and the pips on his uniform indicated the high rank of Commandant. “You're absolutely disgusting. Look at you, you've bled all over your new clothes.”

 

Memory-Hux lifted his head and shot the Commandant a look of pure loathing. Kylo smiled in appreciation of such intense hatred in such a young creature. It was a pity, he thought, that Hux wasn't Force-sensitive. He could even relate to the feeling of being betrayed and abused by respected elders. They had that much in common, at least.

 

The next few memories were distorted and inexact by comparison to the crisp, clean trauma of childhood abuse and whatever the beetle represented. Kylo turned away from the stormcloud and returned to his own mind and thoughts.

 

The Lord Ren felt he was beginning to understand what his master had meant. The Lord Ren had barely scratched the surface of Hux's dark memories and he'd found potent emotion. If those memories were relatively easy to find, what secrets were hidden even deeper? Clearly his master intended for Kylo to penetrate further. Clearly there was something to find.

 

If he deconstructed Hux, Kylo thought, he'd break his strongest rival. It would be to his benefit, even. Hux would thank him later. All he had to do was keep Hux off-balance and take every precious memory from his skull.

 

A twin-headed viper? Hardly. In reality, Kylo decided, there was one head: him.

 

Kylo's eyes cracked open as he returned to normal consciousness, and he was barely aware of the curve to his lips. Hux was a shellfish that he'd crack wide open. There was no escape _._ Warm certainty filled the Lord Ren and he crackled the knuckles on one hand, absently shutting down his work terminals. His stomach growled and he glanced at the clock. It had been some time since lunch, hadn't it?

 

As if on cue, the conference door whisked open. Commander BN-6693, a rough faced man with a wide jaw, popped his unhelmeted head into the room.

 

“My lord,” BN-6693 said, accent revealing he was from a Core World. “Dinner is ready. We're waiting on you.”

 

“Very good,” the Lord Ren said. He rose to his feet. “Let's go.”

 

Kylo led the way with the traces of a smirk on his face.

 

He could hardly wait to see Hux.

 

 


	3. velocity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo does a test run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> 1\. thanks for reading so far! 7K words is a lot to invest in two garbage cats hissing and swatting at each other but doing dick all, so if you're here for the Weird Stuff, you'll be happy to know this is where things get Strange. As such, please NOTE THE TAG CHANGES! You have been WARNED! Thank you again for reading!  
> 2\. !!!!!!!!!!!AGAIN! PLEASE NOTE NEW TAGS!!!!!!! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!!!!!!  
> 3\. New tags include: whump, rape/non-con, mindrape, mindbreak, Dom!Kylo, graphic sexual content

Friction  
Chapter 03

 

The Lord Ren preceded the rough-jawed Commander down the corridor, cape flowing. His mind was fully fixed on dinner and the man whose company he'd share. Ren adjusted his helmet beneath his arm as he walked, feeling certain and satisfied. Hux wouldn't know what hit him.

Commander BN-6693 watched the back of the other man's head, heart in his throat. He'd heard the stories, though he'd never personally been in the presence of a Force witch, let alone the infamous disciple of the Supreme Leader. If the rumours were true, however, Force witches (and Lord Ren in particular) were to be obeyed and feared in equal measure. 

Still, the trooper was curious. 

He kept pace with the other man, who seemed imposing but not... mystical. 

They neared the elevator and the Commander quickened his pace to push the button for his Lord. Before he'd hurried more than three steps, the Lord Ren made a small half wave with his gloved right hand. The button clicked itself to call the elevator.

BN-6693's jaw dropped and he froze in his step, stunned. Lord Ren stopped before the lift and the stubble-jawed trooper jogged to catch up. His heart hammered in his chest and 6693 felt tingles of awe and fear he'd only ever felt in combat till now. BN-6693 maintained a calm and ready exterior, but his mouth was parched and he felt self-conscious of his breaths.

What else could the Lord Ren do? Maybe, he thought, the question should have been what couldn't the Lord Ren do? Maybe he could read thoughts. Paranoia and anxiety blossomed in BN-6693's mind, and the trooper clenched his jaw, unwilling to think unpatriotic things. He fixed his eyes on the wall and concentrated intently on various stages of blaster rifle maintenance. 

Ren took little notice of the brain squeezing out potent fear juices barely half a meter away. His mind was consumed with finding an exploitable weakness in the General. He had plans for Hux, and they involved learning everything that made the redhead feel shame. A trooper didn't interest him. Kylo cared little for pawns when he hunted a king. 

He took in 6693's fear as they rode the elevator to the second deck, but Ren didn't concern himself overmuch with it. It was good that an inferior feared him, and that was all. The door whisked open and Ren once again led the way towards the cafeteria.

This time, the Lord Ren didn't have to use his Force abilities to open the doors, because they hissed apart as the two men arrived. The skeletal maintenance droid, AO-40, held a tray aloft as it strode across the threshold. 

“Oh! Pardon me, my Lord,” AO-40 crackled as the men approached. The droid bowed and moved to the side, tray full of food held carefully. If the Lord Ren took little notice of a trooper, he took zero notice of a mere servant droid. He walked past without acknowledgement and into the cafeteria, and AO-40 carried on down the hallway.

The cafeteria was a large, tall-ceilinged chamber that contained a number of long, stainless steel tables flanked by rough steel benches. All of it was welded in place by alien slave labour, and then welded again by chastised alien slave labour when the first job was insufficient. The tables and benches were hideous with torch burns and blotches along every seam. 

At the back of the room was a half-window into the kitchen, inside of which the droid had prepared the crew's dinner from pre-prepared packages. 

Such food was unglamorous for the Lord and the General, but it was the simplest and sanest option. The Lord Ren and the General Hux would never lower themselves to cook for their inferiors, the troopers couldn't cook since they always ate rations, and no one in their right mind would trust a maintenance droid to prepare buttered bread without ruining it. 

Eleven troopers, muscled humans of both sexes with short or shaved hair, sat nervously in rows around two of the long tables. Rations filled their plastic trays and tea, the only thing AO-40 could make reliably, steamed away in cups. When they spoke, it was in low voices to each other, and their voices hushed as the dark-haired Lord approached with Commander BN-6693. Lord Ren looked calm, but 6693's shaved scalp was dotted with sweat. Anxiety radiated from their Commander and the troops shifted in their seats, concerned.

Kylo nodded in approval. Not one had started to eat without the permission, even though the Lord Ren could sense their hunger. The ginger had chosen no ordinary troopers. He felt impressed despite himself, and he looked around the chamber for his rival. 

No Hux. 

He remembered AO-40 taking a tray of food through the doors just moments before and an angry feeling of being tricked dropped in Kylo's belly, He rounded on BN-6693 and something in his expression made the trooper take a step back. 

“Where is General Hux?” Kylo asked, voice low and quiet. 

“He requested dinner in his quarters, my Lord,” the Commander said, unsure if that answer would please Kylo or not, and remembering how Force witches could drive a man insane with a look. 

BN-6693's grey eyes flicked from Kylo's face to his squad and then back again. His squad watched, though no one moved, nor would they if he were punished for answering. BN-6693 knew they were sympathetic, and he took comfort in that fact. 

Kylo's face went blank as his thoughts turned inward, and BN-6693 could have sworn he felt some kind of ultra-low vibration. Something that wasn't good.

The Lord Ren considered his actions. He considered drawing his lightsaber and beheading BN-6693. He considered wrecking furniture and smashing dinner so everyone would feel as miserable as he did. He considered ordering the Commander to fetch Hux that very instant. He considered stomping up to Hux's quarters and pounding on the door. He considered all of those things. But Kylo Ren did none of that. 

Just as Kylo had seen Hux do, the Lord Ren carefully folded up his emotions. He swallowed anger at being denied a toy. He wouldn't let the enlisted see he'd lost control because he hadn't lost control. He was still in control. All Hux could do was delay the inevitable and guarantee himself punishment for his insolence. He couldn't spend the entire voyage locked in his quarters.

Hux was over the event horizon of a black hole. He and Kylo were headed for a singularity, the Lord Ren knew; it was an eventuality. Wasn't that the word the Supreme Leader used? Eventualities. Certainties. The Supreme Leader's words were all coming true.

Surely, surely, this was what Lord Snoke meant. 

The ultra-low vibration faded and the dark-haired Lord relaxed. Nothing was wrong. Everything was on track. His gaze softened.

“I see,” Kylo said, bearing much lighter suddenly. He moved away from BN-6693, and finally spied upon the smaller table the troopers had assembled for himself and Hux. He exhaled, annoyed and amused at the same time.

The table itself was stark metal with room for two places, though only one had been set with utensils, tea and a cup of water with ice cubes floating inside. Heated rations waited for Kylo on white disposable dishes, a relative luxury compared to the plastic meal trays. Spartan would have been overly-fond, but Kylo found no complaint. He wasn't here for the decor or the food. 

“Begin,” Kylo said as he pulled back his chair, “And Commander—in the future I expect you all to eat at regular mealtimes. The General and I will be keeping odd hours. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my Lord,” BN-6693 said. “Perfectly.”

Given permission, the squad had begun to eat. Their Commander hurried to take his own seat at the only remaining open place at the long table: at the corner not a full meter way from where the Lord Ren sat. 

Patriotic thoughts, BN-6693 reminded himself as he settled in his seat. Patriotic thoughts.

Mealtimes were ordinarily a relaxed affair, but the supervision of the Lord Ren sucked all breath from the room. Conversations were muted and limited to requests for condiments to be passed. Occasionally someone would cough or loudly swallow, but for the most part each trooper ate in total silence.

6693 picked at his food, appetite reluctant to return as it so often was after periods of anxiety and excitement. The desire to talk to his crew was strong, but nothing he wanted to say was appropriate for the ears of a Lord, and so the Commander bit his tongue and nibbled away at his meaty stew. 

Kylo ate piece by piece, not savouring or considering his meal. It was fuel to him, and he only cared that his nutritional needs were met. Fresh stuff would have been nicer, but food held little appeal compared to his eager thoughts. Each time he remembered Hux, a burst of aggression tightened in his chest. The tension urged Kylo to move faster and faster with exhilaration and the Lord Ren felt that he was somehow on the hunt; a shapeless animal moving through darkness and guided by hunger.

Despite his elation, Kylo felt grounded. The familiar rush of adrenaline and joy slammed him before every battle, and experience dictated that now was the time to plan and plot. He knew he wanted to break Hux, so the question became a simple one: how?

Pain was the answer. It always was.

I'll torture him, the dark haired man decided as he stabbed a chunk of re-hydrated meat. He'd have to find a sensitive, hidden place within Hux that had never been hurt before. 

He considered his options. If he restrained Hux to a table and ripped his mind to ribbons, it would take about three hours. He'd know everything, and afterwards the General would be a drooling moron unfit to command a hotdog stand. That was the simplest option, but it was also the crudest, would upset Snoke greatly, and wouldn't feel satisfactory. So that was out.

If he entered Hux's dreams, he'd preserve the man's intellect... for the most part. Seven to ten nights of dreaming would yield all manner of truths. But this was too slow, and it had the added negative of being inexact. Hux's memories were already surreal and unusual; without a long period of observation, Kylo would be unable to discern real memories from a sleeping brain's typical gibberish. Dreams were out. 

He could read the General's secret service file and then interrogate him to finalize details. That would take a day or two, possibly even three, and would yield clinical yet precise information. But it wouldn't yield the satisfaction or details Kylo craved. It wouldn't convince Hux that Ren was his natural superior. Military interrogation was out.

Hux must be conscious, willing, and couldn't be crippled as a result of his torture. 

Was it even torture at that point? wondered Kylo glumly as he stabbed a chunk of root vegetable and brought it to his mouth. Because that didn't sound like torture. That sounded uncomfortably close to a conversation between equals. And Kylo would never accept General Hux as his equal. So how would he go about this?

Nothing sprang to mind. 

Frustration bubbled behind Kylo's sternum and the dark haired man sucked down a mouthful of hot tea as he ruminated. His eyes roamed the cafeteria and glanced over the rows of grim-faced troopers as they finished their rations. 

One by one, soldiers stood from the benches and carried their trays to a side table for AO-40 to wash. Careful not to look too happy to leave, the soldiers filtered through the sliding doors and down the corridor to their bunks. They were eager to socialise away from Kylo's ears, and the Lord Ren could sense relief as they vanished into the recesses of the Perseverance. 

Their fear amused Kylo and soothed some of his frustration. Perhaps, he considered, the troopers had the right idea. Perhaps he needed entertainment to jog his brain. If Hux wasn't around, he would just have to find something else.

His eyes fell on the last trooper left in the cafeteria: BN-6693. The Commander worked on the final quarter of his meal, one hand resting around his cup of cooling tea, jaw working slowly as he chewed. The soldier's eyes were fuzzy as he mulled over things in his head. 6693's nose had a bumped bridge, indicating it had been broken in the past, but matched with his pale grey eyes and stubbled chin, he looked every inch the grizzled, experienced soldier. 

He wasn't bad looking, Kylo considered as he focused on the other man's face.

He stopped himself mid-thought. Again, there were thoughts about other men's faces. What did it mean? Was he experiencing attraction? 

The thought brought no distress. Kylo Ren was a student of the Dark Side, and believed all passions were potential sources of power. Sexual energy could be utilized in powerful ways if one wasn't cowardly or ashamed. The drives to hunt, to fuck, or eat were equally worthy to Kylo, and so he felt nothing but curiosity. He'd experimented with a few male partners when he'd first broken free of Jedi brainwashing, but gravitated naturally towards females. Until this moment, he'd considered the matter of his sexuality closed. Was something shifting within him? 

He stared at 6693. 

Sex. He hadn't considered sex. Well, he considered it earlier but dismissed it. Now it was back on the table, and looked promising. Kylo could use sex to humiliate and hurt the General, and it fulfilled all requirements: conscious, non-lethal, didn't maim, and possibly willingly. It was brilliant in its simplicity and appealing in its potential to hollow the General into a shell of his former self, all while retaining intellect and outward appearance.

Of course, Kylo Ren considered as he looked at the trooper, he couldn't go unprepared. Kylo knew how to sexually manipulate women, but men were different creatures. He couldn't treat Hux like that scavenger girl. He would have experiment with different techniques. 

He crunched an ice cube between his molars, the sound loud in the near-empty cafeteria. He needed a prototype. Some scratch paper. 

A test dummy.

6693's grey eyes flicked around the chamber as he returned to the present moment, and the soldier tensed at the realisation he was alone with the Lord Ren. The Lord Ren who stared at him with implacable, reflective dark eyes. 

“My Lord?” he asked. How long had the other man been staring?

“Tell me,” Kylo Ren said, deep voice calm. A smile played at the edges of his mouth, but the expression didn't reassure 6693. “Have you ever met a Force user before?”

“No, my Lord,” the Commander said, shaking his head. Surely Ren didn't want idle conversation from a mere foot soldier. The deep vibration was back, the one that reminded 6693 of soured sweet things and rotting vegetation. He tried to ignore it.

“So my little trick earlier--” Kylo said, and mimed flicking his fingers in the half-wave from before. “That was the first time you'd ever seen someone use the Force?”

“It was, my Lord,” 6693 agreed, nodding. Something tickled at the edges of his consciousness; raw shadows nipping at the corners of his attention. Determined to ignore it, the trooper concentrated on the Lord Ren's face. “Uhm, very impressive, my Lord.”

“That's the least of what I can do,” Ren said, leaning in towards the trooper as if they shared a secret. 

6693 leaned forward, too, because it seemed like Lord Ren wanted him to, and a buzz grew in his ears. He felt faint and dizzy, and wondered if he'd somehow eaten a spoiled package of rations.

“Would you like to see a more impressive trick?” Kylo asked, sly smile curving his mouth into a wicked, bloodless knife slash. He shifted forward on his seat and lifted his hand from the top of his thigh. The deep vibration grew strong enough for 6693 to feel in his belly, along with the curdle of fear. 

“No, thank you, my Lord,” the trooper said as he swiftly rose. “That's not for the likes of me. I know my place.”

That was the plan, at least. In reality, 6693 just jerked his legs and remained seated at the table. His eyes widened at his numb, frozen body and the fear in his heart blossomed into terror. What had the witch done? His chest heaved and fresh sweat dotted the trooper's scalp, but he sat obediently across from the Lord Ren without moving.

Ren reached forward and and held his hand between them, fingers splayed as if he were playing the Commander like an instrument.

“It'll hurt less if you don't resist,” Lord Ren said in his low voice, the vibration rattling the edges of 6693's eyeballs. “But it will still hurt.”

If 6693 could speak, he would have begged his Lord for mercy. 

Kylo Ren paralyzed the soldier in a grip of Dark Force, and pushed scratching tendrils of Darkness into the other man's mind. These weren't general probes into 6693's psyche, they were targeted missiles that streaked raw, aching stripes across his consciousness. A migraine headache pounded at his temples, his ears roared, nausea rose in his throat and his vision narrowed to Kylo Ren's cold eyes. 

6693 gurgled, helpless.

“Where is it?” Ren murmured, uncaring of the soldier's distress as he concentrated. Humans possessed the same general brain structure regardless of sex, but there were crucial differences that came into play during arousal. The grey eyed man would doubtlessly feel very strange as Kylo settled into full control. 

The Lord Ren turned his skilled attention to the Commander's memories with a crude plan: kickstart arousal by forcing the man to review his erotic episodes. Encouraging an existing process was more likely to succeed than booting a deactivated system, and Kylo wanted an easy win here; he was testing general theory more than perfecting an art. He didn't have to be careful. 6693 was ultimately disposable. 

He applied more force and broke a barrier to emotional memories of 6693's first girlfriend who dumped him for a pilot, which ultimately motivated BN-6693 to become a pilot, too. He found another memory of a treasured girlfriend dying in combat. It was emotional stuff connected to sex, so Kylo was in the right neighbourhood, but nothing in those memories was particularly erotic. He made a sound of frustration.

6693 had no idea why his exes flashed before his eyes. First he saw the raven-haired YC-4792, then a vision of noble RN-5530 just before she died. He floated in his own head and the Lord Ren rifled through his personal recollections with the sensitivity of a butcher knife. 

His gut told him to resist, and 6693 focused a bolt of pure, desperate desire to see the other man out of his head. The trooper summoned his will and tried to hurl it at intruder. The Lord Ren barely paused. He was heavier and stronger in this realm, and he smothered 6693's mental protests without difficulty or remorse. Ren returned to his task.

One tendril found a memory of a mid-battle tryst with an officer, and Kylo seized upon it. He fixated on the experience and isolated it, enhanced it, exaggerated the feeling of hunger and desire in a situation of danger, even as 6693 struggled to dampen the flame. 

The soldier whimpered in panic as arousal flickered within him and he sucked in breath after panicked breath, eyes wide and staring into Lord Ren's. He had no idea that Force witches could do something like this. Panic chased his consciousness, threatening a total loss of control. 

It's too late, Ren told 6693 in the man's head. And I told you it would hurt.

Please don't, please no, please, my Lord, please— begged 6693 in return. He knew no shame in the face of this threat. Pleasant memories were the only possessions a trooper could ever say they actually owned. He'd imagined himself dismembered or crippled plenty of times, but never this. Not this.

The physical symptoms were easier now for Ren to manipulate with the memory of the mid-battle tryst to utilise. The Lord Ren worked the other man's nervous system with growing familiarity. Add some adrenaline here, deeper breathing, dilate the pupils, and watch skin flushing as Ren touched his mind there. Inside his armour, 6693 could feel his cock stiffen and arousal flowed over him like a liquid blanket. 

No, no, no, 6693 begged. He wanted to puke and cry and scream. He wasn't aroused, but he was totally aroused. He writhed to escape, but only twitched. Every breath he took shifted his clothes and armour which teased and groped at the trooper's body without mercy. Memories of being buried deep inside Captain Torya during the Battle of Greater Polok washed before his eyes, and he could feel her body beneath his paralyzed hands. He could hear her breath in his ear.

There was no escape. He couldn't even move his eyes away from Lord Ren's face. He stared at his own rapist as his eyes filled with tears and blurred his vision, cock straining and leaking in his armour. He was going to cum. He wanted to die. 

If he could speak, he would have begged for death.

It could get worse, Kylo Ren thought critically. Calm and composed, he observed the trooper's reactions with an academic interest. It could always get worse. 

The human male arousal system was markedly different from the female counterpart, and Kylo had learned a tremendous amount that he would use in the future. When it was General Hux's turn, Kylo would slow the process down and he would take his time. 

But there was one question only a disposable test subject could answer. Would a human male receive brain damage from a Forced orgasm? Kylo had no idea. He'd been warned from using his abilities on non-gifted individuals during sex by various teachers on both sides of the Force, and Kylo was curious to see what would happen when he broke that rule.

When Kylo looked to Commander BN-6693, the soldier's unfocused eyes were glazed as he trembled, lines of drool, tears and snot running down his face and onto his chest. His mind dangled on the edge of a steep precipice, and Kylo wasn't sure what would happen after this.

He cranked the other man's body chemistry past its biological maximum and squeezed a bolt of Dark Force through BN-6693's inner brain. 

The Commander screamed; a long, anguished, throat-ripping, animal sound.

As the soldier screamed his body twisted against Ren's paralysis, jerked, and fell sideways from the bench. 6693 collapsed to the decking and wheezed, eyes unseeing as something inconceivable cascaded through his body in an overwhelming, agonizingly pleasurable torrent. His muscles twitched, but otherwise he lay motionless.

Lord Ren extended one foot and nudged the other man's cheek with the toe of his boot. There was no response. The Commander breathed, so Kylo knew his brainstem was intact, at least. The rest would be determined when, or if, BN-6693 ever woke up. 

Interesting, thought Kylo, and he mentally replaced the man laying before him with the General Hux. Soon he'd see Hux's chin covered in drool and face pressed to the floor. Soon he'd hear that tormented scream ripping from Hux's throat. Kylo's heart thudded in his chest in anticipation and he felt a low, warm glow of mild arousal. Soon.

Things were on track. Things were under control. This experiment had yielded results, no matter what happened with Commander BN-6693. He'd learned much.

The soldier's scream hadn't gone unnoticed. Booted feed thudded down the corridor as BN-6693's executive officer and second flight leader raced to respond. The rest of the squad waited in the bunk rooms as ordered. There was no need to risk more lives than necessary during one of the Lord Ren's rages.

The executive officer, first to reach the cafeteria, was a brown skinned man with large, cunning eyes. At that moment, they were fixed on his commander's motionless form. He crossed the room and knelt beside BN-6693. Curiosity urged him to ask Lord Ren what had happened, but self-preservation kept his mouth shut.

“My Lord, he needs the medical droid,” the officer said, tone terse and restrained. He gently turned BN-6693 against his knee and started to manoeuvre his arms beneath his commander's armpits. He did not meet the other man's gaze, and he resisted the urge to tenderly wipe BN-6693's slack face. 

“You may take him,” Kylo said with a nod, and rose from his chair.

The second flight leader, a grave faced woman with a cybernetic eye, paused by the doors. She took in the scene of BN-6693 in a puddle on the floor with Lord Ren standing over him, and wordlessly went to help her comrade lift their leader. She did not look at Kylo, and the Lord Ren took no great notice of her, much to her relief.

The two soldiers slung BN-6693's arms over their shoulders and carried the muscled soldier towards the door. His toes dragged, loose and limp.

“It'll be okay, Boone,” murmured the executive officer. He prayed the Lord Ren couldn't hear, his hand tightening around the grey eyed man's waist. “It'll be okay. Just stay with us, sir. You'll be okay, I promise.”

BN-6693, or 'Boone' to his squad, didn't answer. 

Behind them, Lord Ren took a swallow of fresh, cool water from the cup the troopers had thoughtfully set out for him. He cracked ice between his molars as they left, annoyed that he would have to wait for the elevator.

What to do for the rest of the evening?

Kylo pulled his personal data-pad from a pocket and glanced at the screen. Two agents had responded to his dispatches concerning the Balak Nah casino while he'd experimented with the commander. Good.

Events were all coming together nicely, and a pleased satisfaction warmed the Lord Ren's chest. He slipped the sleek black device into his pocket and headed for the elevator. He couldn't hear the soldiers, so he assumed they'd finished using it. 

Ren rode to the second deck and stepped onto the metal grated floor, his eyes already ahead to the General's door. It waited across the hall from his own, and Kylo's curiosity burned as he approached.

He paused between their doors, half hoping the General would appear before him, but naturally nothing happened. Kylo lingered, raised his hand to knock on the door but—no. No, there was no need to rush things. Hux could delay and delay and delay, but he could not change the inevitable. 

Kylo turned back to his own door and pressed the button. It slid open and closed behind him. 

If Hux had thought dinner was something to avoid, the Lord Ren thought with pleasure, he really would stay in his quarters the entire trip.


	4. god or monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gets some test results back and establishes some new behaviour norms with Hux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Writing Soundtrack:  
> -'Destroy Everything You Touch' by Ladytron  
> -'Creep' by Radiohead  
> -'House of the Rising Sun' cover by The Animals  
> -'Selected Ambient Works Volume II' album by Aphex Twin  
> -'Flower of Carnage' by Meiko Keiji  
> -'Ghost' by Kenji Kawai  
> -'Interstellar Soundtrack' by Hans Zimmer
> 
> 2\. Kylo is totally a masochist. A sadist, too, but oh my does this boy love to be hurt.  
> 3\. I really appreciate you all for sticking with me through the boring ass worldbuilding side character garbo. Thank you. No worries, amigos: we're still on track.  
> 4\. This is a very long chapter. I couldn't release it in parts because that would have been too frustrating to read and wait for more. So I kept it all until I was done. What do you all prefer? Shorter chapters that come more often, or more complete episodes that take longer?

Friction  
Chapter 04: god or monster

 

When Kylo awoke the next morning he was much more calm.

Dark lashes flickered as he opened his eyes to take in the blank grey ceiling. Sleep faded from his mind without hurry as he lay beneath the covers. He'd slept well and woke with a mind fogged over by morning amnesia. 

Languid, the young man stretched his limbs across the mattress beneath the soft sheets, exhaling as his muscles and tendons stretched and ached. He concentrated on the gentle kisses of pain and leaned weight into his sleep-stiff body to enjoy a deeper hurt. It felt so good to suffer sometimes. No soft touch ever came close. Kylo puffed out a pleased sighed. 

His hand travelled down his own torso to the angry red stitches of his blaster wound. Fresh skin, hairless and melted, covered a hole where the surgical droids carved out burnt tissue and then dumped wads of bacta. The new flesh was sensitive and delicate near the stitches, and his nail dragged up and down longingly. 

The last time he'd had a perfect ache was when Hux punched him and burst three sutures. That was enraging in the moment, but afterwards Kylo had relished the walk to the infirmary. His vision sparkled with endorphins on the way to the medical bay, and he could remember exquisite detail like the faces of soldiers and officers as he dripped a trail of blood down the corridors. 

Pain had a way of clarifying things. Back then, it focused Kylo's desire to avoid the idea of a long mission with Hux. He'd loathed the concept. Now he was full of desire for the very thing he'd once hated. It occurred to him that his behaviour couldn't be described as rational. It rarely could anymore. 

He grunted and pushed himself sitting in his wide bed, sheets spilling from his bare chest and pooling around his naked waist. Kylo shifted weight to one hand and wiped sleep from his eyes with the other, glancing at the clock. He looked again, surprised. It felt as though the time were hours later than his usual 05:30 wakeup. He felt refreshed, though slightly hungry. 

He turned his head and caught a glimpse of the red notification light on his personal electronic device. It blinked, indicating multiple new messages.

Curious, Kylo shifted across the bed and set his feet on the cool floor as events of the previous day turned over in his mind. He ran through them in order; waking up, boarding the Perseverance, the nebula and dispatches, then a late dinner and that experiment with the Commander. Afterwards he'd dispatched some messages, meditated, and went to bed.

He stood. There would probably be a message or two from the Supreme Leader if Hux tattled like a schoolyard child. But, he reasoned, Hux wouldn't show that kind of incompetence and weakness willingly. So unless someone else on board told (unthinkable) a message from Snoke wouldn't be waiting for him. So what were the new messages? Maybe the floor schematics as ordered from his spies.

The Lord Ren shrugged and padded across the room to his wardrobe. It could wait until he'd meditated and trained. Exercise was an important part of the dark haired man's life, and if there was some truly urgent message he would be notified in person. So it could wait. 

He changed into a pair of loose grey jogging pants, a black tank top and slipped black runners onto his feet before he headed out the door and towards the ship's exercise facilities. 

The gym's lights were off as he entered, and Kylo pawed at the panel. The lights brightened to full illumination suddenly and he squinted, heading for the treadmills on the far side of the chamber. His feet depressed into the soft, matted flooring with each step, a frustrating sensation. He paused at the water dispenser to rinse the night's dryness from his mouth, but only gulped a few mouthfuls and spit out the rest. He didn't want to cramp.

Without a word, the black haired man walked to a treadmill and mounted the machine. He pushed a series of buttons on the console; a distance of 10 km and a time limit of 65 minutes. It was a swift pace for a human, but not grueling. He could be faster if needed to be, and using the Force allowed him to be faster still... But he wasn't trying to break any records. This was simply his morning exercise. He wanted to think. Or, rather, not think.

Kylo hit the large green button and immediately began running. He didn't bother to warm up with a jog. Real scenarios never afforded him such luxuries and besides, the young Lord thought scornfully, he was already taking it easy by running on a smooth, level surface.

His feet thudded against the scroll as it moved, and his chest rose and fall as settled into a familiar, distance gobbling pace. His blaster wound throbbed each time his heel contacted the ground, but Kylo didn't mind. The more the first fifteen to twenty minutes hurt, the more endorphins he'd get when he punched through. 

Ten minutes passed and he ran on, bored but tolerant of his boredom. It was expected; no one ran on a treadmill to be intellectually stimulated. Exercise had other perks. 

Sure enough, at the eighteen minute mark Kylo felt his entire body soften and unwind. His steps became longer, smoother, and his breath felt free and bottomless. A calm bliss enveloped his mind and his thoughts became hazy and indistinct. 

He ran, aware of time but uncaring as he devoured kilometer after kilometer and delighted in how his body performed like a well-oiled machine. Running felt good on a fundamental level to Kylo, because his entire being was predatory. For a few minutes, his insides matched his outsides as he chased invisible prey.

Forty minutes passed and gleaming rays of bright discomfort punched through the clouds of foggy pleasure. Kylo continued, closer to the end of his exercise than the beginning, and easily endured the fire in his chest and thumping pulse of his blaster wound. There were higher types of pleasure than being comfortable.

At sixty three minutes and twenty one seconds, Kylo passed the 10km mark. He slowed to a jog, and then to a walk, and after sixty seven minutes he stepped off the machine feeling much more clear-headed and energized. The relief of stopping was another rush in and of itself, and Kylo luxuriated as he headed upstairs to the first class showers. He always felt powerful after exercise.

Kylo returned to his quarters after his shower and dressed in his usual black pants, undershirt, tunic and jacket, then threw a cape across his back that brushed his heels. When he went to take a brush from the cabinet, he saw his personal data device blink.

Right. The messages. He'd enjoyed his morning exercise so much he'd forgotten. 

Kylo walked over to his personal computer terminal and activated it as he sat in the chair. He pulled the brush through his damp black hair as he logged in to see three new messages waiting for his consideration. As predicted, two were from his spies marked urgent and deeply encrypted. The third was from General Hux, timed to the late evening after Ren retired to his quarters. It was titled, 'RE: BN-6693'.

He could practically feel the General's cool anger emanating from the e-mail, and Kylo wanted to savour it. He'd save the best for last. 

Ren opened the first spy's message and then the second, and found exactly what he thought he'd find: digital files labelled as detailed schematics for the Balakh Nah casino on Dandoran. 

But something bothered Kylo. The files were two vastly different sizes, but were the same type and ostensibly the same thing. Something wasn't right. The dark haired man downloaded both files, then opened both at the same time. He compared what he saw. 

No match. 

Kylo hissed out an irritated breath between his teeth and set the hairbrush to one side of the computer terminal. This complicated things. Either one or both of his spies had sent him incorrect information and Ren was patient with neither treachery nor incompetence. He'd have to talk with the individuals responsible—but that could wait until after breakfast. His stomach was empty after the 10km run. 

Kylo opened the messaged marked, 'RE: BN-6693' and read:

 

_Lord Ren,_

_We have limited resources and wasting them is detrimental to our efforts. I expect a modicum of respect for my equipment in the future. This ship is not designed for long hospitalisations. This is non-negotiable._

_-General A. Hux_

 

Kylo exhaled an amused breath at the General's arch tone, and took no offense. He'd expected pushback for potentially crippling an officer and the letter was par for the course. It was gutsy of Hux to order him about like a servant droid, though, that was a bit extra. The trooper lived, so there was nothing to be upset about.

Hux, Kylo decided, was just being dramatic.

The trooper lived, but in what condition? The answer would dictate Hux's fate, so Kylo wanted to see for himself. This was important. 

He glanced at the clock. He had time to check before breakfast. He needed to see exactly what happened to a non-gifted subject of a Forced orgasm. He clicked his lightsaber to his belt before he left, almost an afterthought but never forgotten.

Curiosity and hunger tickled at Kylo as he exited through his door and let it lock behind him. 

-

It was still early when Kylo reached the small medical bay. A bacta tank burbled warmly in the corner, empty but for hoses that floated like jellyfish. The chamber was well equipped with modern technology, and three beds were arranged in a row down one wall. A curtain separated one bed from the next, and Kylo could see a pair of pale feet furthest down the line.

The medical droid, recently manufactured and plastic unscratched, stood and bowed when the Lord Ren entered. It raised a finger to the mouth speaker beneath its six glowing eyes, then pointed to a glowing digital clock on the wall. When the Lord Ren approached, it spoke in a quiet, feminine hum. 

“Greetings. I am T-U1, medical droid. How may I assist you this morning?”

“You can show me to BN-6693,” the Lord Ren said.

“I'm afraid he's not awake, my Lord, but you are welcome to return later,” T-U1 replied, apologetic. It started to turn away, but stopped when the human spoke.

“I understand it's early,” Kylo said, tone sharp with irritation. “Wake him up. I want to talk to him.”

“My apologies, Lord Ren. I must have been unclear,” said the droid. It tilted its metal casing back and forth in apology. “What I should have said is, 'BN-6693 has not regained consciousness'.”

“Will he ever wake up? Is his brain is fried?” inquired Ren. 

“No, his brain appears intact, despite his coma,” the droid said, sweet voice rueful. 

“So he's a vegetable. Unwakeable?” pressed the human, impatient. 

“No, my Lord,” admitted T-U1. “But I haven't tried. That's risky, and BN-6693 can be kept hydrated and nourished for several days before we try electrical or chemical stimulation of the nervous system. It's much safer just to wait.”

“Wait...” muttered Kylo. He took a step into the aisle and looked to where pale feet jutted out from beneath the light blue sheets. They were motionless. Wait days for some trooper to finish dreaming before he moved ahead with his plans? Absolutely not. “No. I'll wake him myself.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked T-U1, clearly not pleased. It spread its fingers and patted the air between them, as if the Lord were an animal it could soothe. “I don't recommend this course of action. My programming is focused on benevolence and healing!”

“So heal,” said Kylo, stepping past the many-eyed T-U1 and stalking towards the pale feet. “I'll do it.”

“How?” wailed T-U1, programmed to care about its patients but unable to interfere with a Lord's business.

“Let me worry about that. Just secure the door,” Kylo said. He paused with one hand on the curtain, pale feet before him. “ And prepare some sedatives, while you're at it. He may run when he sees me, or become violent. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, my Lord!” stammered the droid. Its AI churned, processing the complex list of demands in terms of priority. T-U1 stumbled towards the door with flashing eyes and hastily locked the thing, then hurried to ready a tray of syringes.

Kylo pulled the curtain aside. 

BN-6693 lay motionless save for the soft up and down of his chest. His rugged face with broken, bumped nose and wide jaw was smoothed over and without tension, like the ugliest sleeping princess in an unpleasant fairy tale. 

The Lord Ren didn't spend much time in contemplation of the soldier's looks. He tilted his head and extended a sharp, narrow stiletto of Force energy into the base of the man's brain, re-establishing contact with a nervous system he'd encountered the night before. True to the droid's words, nothing seemed broken. The brain seemed whole. BN-6693 was just deeply, deeply asleep. 

Wasting no time, Kylo jolted the trooper's brain with a low feeling of 'danger'.

BN-6693's eyes flickered immediately. The trooper's instincts prodded him as he groggily regained consciousness, and his blurry eyes told him something large and black loomed over him. Weakly, he lifted one hand and pushed at the Lord's chest. 

That was easy, thought the Lord Ren with an annoyed glance over his shoulder at the useless medical droid. 

He looked down to the man who pushed at his torso and withdrew the stiletto from 6693's mind. He had no desire to linger in the minds of his lessers.

BN-6993 shivered as fear passed from his system, eyes sliding closed. 

“Wake up,” Kylo ordered. He shook the trooper's shoulder with one gloved hand, annoyed that the man wasn't instantly responsive. Kylo wanted breakfast, and the more this trooper dawdled the longer this would take. 

6693 squinted up in confusion. The voice was familiar, and a few moments passed before he realised who stood over him. Understanding dawned in the trooper's sleep-fuzzy mind and 6693 blanched, his eyes widened to a terrified stare. He was awake now. The soldier yanked his hand from his Lord's body as if Ren's black coat were electrified. 

“S-sir!” 6693 croaked, throat dry. He stared at the Lord, frozen, as memories of the night before washed over him. Grey eyes flickered across the other man's face, trying to determine the Lord Ren's purpose here. Was he here to kill him?

Kylo stared, unmoving. Were the only consequence of a Forced orgasm just a solid eight hours of sleep? How disappointing.

“You're unharmed,” Kylo observed, already bored. He looked to the far wall where T-U1 stood with a silver tray of syringes. Unnecessary, it seemed.

6693 said nothing as he stared. The events of the previous evening tumbled in his mind over and over; he remembered eating slowly, then being the last one in the cafeteria, and then—and then—! 

The memory was overwhelmingly intense. The Lord Ren had done something awful to him. Something truly reprehensible. Boone felt violated and hollow, like a drained, crushed aluminum beer can. He felt used. He looked away from the Lord Ren's scarred face, heart thumping in his chest. 

“How do you feel?” Kylo asked, deep voice rumbling through 6693's ears.

6693, uncomfortable with having a conversation laying down, rustled the blankets as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He couldn't answer immediately. He wasn't sure if he could ever answer. His eyes settled on the sheets covering his knees and the trooper exhaled a shaky breath.

“Can you remember last night?” Kylo pressed the soldier. He passed a mental finger over the other man's mind, and encountered a soft, pliable surface that reminded Kylo of the exercise mats from earlier that morning. It was squishy under his mental touch, bruised and tender.

BN-6693 shivered as a cold shadow touched his brain, and knew the Lord Ren was inside his mind again. This time, however, the soldier knew better than to resist. If the Lord Ren wanted to hurt him, he would. There was nothing BN-6693 could do. Fear curdled in the trooper's body, but he didn't move. He waited, at Kylo's mercy, for the shadow to pass.

Something else stirred in BN-6693 at Kylo's touch, though. Something darker and deeper, something unhinged and irrational. Something hot that burned an ember in the pit of 6693's belly. Some shameful part of him had tasted oblivion, and like a feral animal sniffing blood, it hungered for more. 

Every single sexual experience of 6693's life felt washed out and grey compared to the brilliant colour of the previous night. He felt redefined, orbiting around some new, awful nucleus of arousal and pain.

“I remember,” 6693 croaked, throat dry and tight.

6693 didn't want to want this, and he shoved the hunger down deep inside. It would have been a relief to feel simple terror instead of this dizzying, sickening mixture of fear and hot desire for abuse.

Kylo watched the soldier's mind with growing pleasure. So this was why Forced orgasms were discouraged. He'd created a monster. This wasn't disappointing at all. This was fascinating.

“Did you like my trick?” Kylo asked, amused, and felt the trooper's desire lurch.

“'sagoodtrick,” 6693 muttered, looking at his knees. He felt like a tiny bug beneath the Lord's imperious gaze, and worryingly enough, that fed into the trooper's growing desire. Shame and arousal heated his blood against his will and he clenched his teeth. Blood stirred below his waist and he bunched the sheets over his half erection, horrified. 

This was awful. Delicious, but awful. What had Lord Ren done to him?

“If you ever want to see my trick again, you'll do exactly as I command,” the Lord Ren said, obviously amused by his new toy. 

“Yessir,” nodded 6693, still staring at the sheets. Of course he'd agree. He'd do anything to see the witch's trick again.

“You aren't Hux's dog anymore, you're mine. Do you understand?” 

“Yessir,” repeated the trooper. He gripped and regripped the sheet in his hands, wishing that he weren't so turned on by the Lord Ren's proximity and his power. The feeling of being spoken to one-on-one was intense and very intimate. He loved it. He was fully hard now, waiting on every syllable.

“If I tell you to put a blaster bolt through his brain, you do it, understand?”

6693 nodded, eyes squeezed shut. He would, too. He'd commit high treason, just so as long as Kylo Ren kept speaking to him. 

“Good. Return to duty and tell everyone you remember nothing of last night. Tell no one what happened,” Kylo continued. “I'll contact you when I have a task for you. Until then, behave as normal. Is that clear?”

Boone nodded emphatically. He would. No one would know. He'd obey. All he needed was for the Lord Ren to work his wonderful, terrible magic one more time. 

“I said, 'Is that clear?'” repeated Kylo, voice smooth as silk.

6693 coughed, cleared his throat, and tried to sound like his usual self. 

“Yessir,” he repeated. He didn't feel like his usual self.

The Lord Ren seemed satisfied. The black haired man turned and pulled the curtain aside. Evidently the interview was over. 

6693's heart squeezed. He didn't know when the Lord Ren would reach out. Months might pass before the next time. He needed more!

“Sir!” he exclaimed, tone desperate. 

The Lord Ren stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn. He looked over his shoulder, dark eyes unpitying and cold. Again, 6693 had the impression that he was some insect in those eyes, and he shivered.

“What,” the Lord Ren asked, clearly uninterested in anything Boone had to say. 

“Sir—please,” Boone said, voice cracking. He looked up, eyes haunted and hungry, and his heart hollow. “Just once more.”

Kylo barked out a laugh and continued walking.

“You haven't earned that yet,” he said. 

“Sir, when will I—“ started the soldier, but Kylo didn't wait for him to finish, nor did he respond. The Force witch unlocked the door, opened it, and passed through without a backwards glance. It closed.

As the black haired man walked down the hallway towards the elevator, he sensed a crescendo of frustrated despair blossom behind him, and then heard the crash of a medical cart overturned onto the floor. 

Good, he thought, pleased with his work. A good dog is always hungry.

And so was Kylo. It was nearly half past oh-seven-hundred. Time for breakfast. 

-

General Hux did not wake up at 05:30. He slept while Kylo ran, slept while Kylo showered and continued sleeping until shortly before the other man entered the infirmary. And when he woke up, he wished he could go straight back to sleep.

Hux woke at five past seven, and immediately had a crushing headache. A migraine, actually, but Hux had never really cared for the distinction. And unless he couldn't look at a light fixture or walk a straight line, he just took painkillers and carried on as if nothing was wrong. He wouldn't be incapacitated. 

Hux pushed himself sitting, freckled shoulder poking from the open neck of his loose sleeping shirt, and yawned so wide that his stubbled jaw popped. 

“Nngh,” he said, chewing on air for a few moments until his jaw felt comfortable again. Time to rise and shine.

His personal data device blinked a single green light in silence. Hux ignored it, certain the Lord Ren had replied with some insufferable excuse, and shifted across the bed before setting his feet on the cool decking. He rose, loose linen pants falling around his ankles, and padded across the room to where a bottle of prescription painkillers waited on his desk. Hux unscrewed the top, shook three pills into the palm of his hand and dry swallowed them with a deep grimace. They tasted terrible.

He glanced back to where the green message light blinked.

What reason could that beak-nosed son of a bitch offer for putting a decorated war hero into a coma? Nothing Hux wanted to hear with a migraine oppressing him. He turned and padded barefoot out the door. He'd suffer Ren's horseshit soon enough, and he wasn't eager to pollute his morning shower with thoughts of his rival. 

Hux returned ten minutes later with shaved chin, damp hair and a towel slung across his shoulders. The painkillers blunted the worst of his migraine and the redheaded man felt prepared to accept the day's challenges without hesitation. Towel around his slim hips, the General crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a laundered version of his civilian outfit. 

The fabrics were high class and the tailoring absolutely top tier, but still the redhead would have preferred his uniform. The black First Order clothes felt secure, symbolizing something Hux admired. The First Order was Hux's, but it was bigger than Hux, too. Wearing his uniform was his truth. It was everything he'd done to become General, everything he'd suffered and inflicted with pride. It did not please Hux to scurry about in the shadows, in disguise, like a filthy sewer creature. 

He swallowed his discomfort and dressed, because Snoke had commanded him to succeed, and the mission was more important than Hux's wants. Most things were, and Hux was fine with that. Things like comfort and relaxation were for weak-minded underachievers, and Hux didn't consider himself weak, nor an underachiever. 

Hux swung the door of the wardrobe wide to see himself in the mirror. A messy haired redheaded civilian stood in the mirror, thin faced with lanky limbs. He took a short toothed comb and quickly parted his tangled hair, smoothing the cropped red locks into a neat, orderly style. He set the comb to the side, and looked again into his own light eyes. 

Pale eyes looked back. Hux was never sure what he saw in his own reflection, or what he hoped he would see. But sometimes he would look, and wonder; what if someone else were to see his green eyes and know what kind of man he was? Know what he'd done?

That was impossible, of course. No one knew. Only Hux. Everyone else was dead. He'd made certain of that.

He shut the wardrobe harder than necessary. His reflection vanished and he grimaced at the loud noise. The headache was making him morbid and distracting him from duty. 

Focus, Armitage, Hux chided himself. It's not even breakfast yet. 

He turned, crossed to his personal computer terminal and sat in the comfortable computer chair before logging in and glancing over the new messages. His inbox contained reports from various underlings and spies about the status of the fleet, as well as status updates on territory expansions and missions underway. Nothing out of the ordinary or requiring Hux's attention. He'd delegated everything before he'd left, but instructed his staff to keep him in the messaging loop. Judging by the e-mail chatter, everything looked to be running smoothly. 

But nothing, surprisingly enough, from the Lord Ren. 

Hux sat back in his seat. 

“Huh,” he grunted, nonplussed. He hadn't expected that. Usually the beaky man was, how to say, 'verbose', in his refusal to heed instructions. Hux had even adopted an imperious tone in his message to goad him into a furious display, thus giving Hux an excuse to veto all future uses of the Force on crew. But Kylo hadn't risen to the bait. How unusual.

The screen refreshed and Hux saw a new message, received just a moment before, from one of his spies. He opened the message and his eyes flicked back and forth as he read the message, satisfaction growing. 

Attached to the message were floorplans to the Balakh Nah casino. 

That would certainly show up Lord Ren. Hux hadn't needed the other man's resources to get everything required for this extraction. The Supreme Leader could have sent the General on his own, instead of saddling him with an impulsive, uncontrollable Force witch. Just why Snoke had done this was a mystery to Hux, but he guessed that the Supreme Leader wished to know who was superior. Hence this little competition. 

Oh, sure, they were supposed to be cooperating, but Hux wasn't stupid. This viper might start out with two brains, but in the end it would have a single head; him. 

Grim determination settled over the General as he thought of his scarred rival, and he rose from his seat, expression stern. There would be no leisurely breakfasts during this trip. Instead, he'd have to stare across a table at the Lord Ren while eating pre-packaged rations.

“Goody,” breathed Hux, sarcasm dry as a bone. 

Hux wasn't looking forward to breakfast, but skipping it wasn't an option. He'd chosen to work through dinner last night and look what happened: Lord Ren running amok, hospitalising soldiers. Absolutely unprofessional. Clearly supervision was required to prevent further incidents. 

The redhead rubbed his eye, already wishing he could return to bed as he opened his door and headed towards the elevator. There was no two headed viper on this ship, just a tired babysitter and someone's feral child.

He rode, then stepped out of the elevator, head pounding through the painkillers, and proceeded towards the cafeteria. Hux couldn't hear voices, which was odd considering the hour. Breakfast had begun five minutes ago, and the General expected to see troopers in lingering in the corridor chatting or drinking morning beverages. Even on a dreadnought, early mornings tended to be relaxed. Instead the corridor was clear and empty. 

Suspicious, Hux pressed the cafeteria door panel and stepped through. 

Troopers sat in perfect rows and ate in total silence. Every so often, one would glance nervously over to where Kylo Ren sat at a smaller table set for two, then look down to their food. The dark haired man looked up when the General entered, an expectant expression that melted into amusement on his face. 

Hux swallowed a bolt of self-conscious irritation, mind instantly assuming that the smirk was meant for his civilian clothes. He batted that thought aside and stepped forward, thankful for his olive greatcoat. It was more likely that Kylo was pleased with the thick atmosphere he'd created. All Hux saw was a man who prided himself on destroying team cohesion and efficacy. 

Kylo Ren didn't belong here, scaring his men with ridiculous religion, the General thought. He gummed up the works.

Hux narrowed his eyes as he approached, but resisted the urge to lay into Ren immediately. There would be time enough for a thorough scolding, and Hux was certain the soldiers would appreciate the Lord Ren being publicly chastised.

“Lord Ren, good morning,” he greeted as he approached the table. Hux took in his plate of spiced scrambled eggs, dark bread and fried meat without enthusiasm. This pre-cooked, greasy crap was nothing like his usual light breakfasts of kefir, fruits and unsweetened porridge. Revolting.

“General Hux, good morning,” replied the Lord Ren, who had cleared half his plate. He had no problem with the grease, evidently. His gloves lay folded on the edge of the table.

Hux seated himself without further comment and picked up the coffee mug set by his plate. He tilted it towards himself, saw it was empty, then looked over to Kylo.

“No coffee?”

“Do I look like a droid?” said Kylo flatly, and returned to his meal. 

Hux tch'd and glanced around for AO-40, then waved the droid over. It carried a steaming jug of tea and an equally hot coffee pot in its hands and bowed in apology when it neared the table. 

“Oh, I do apologize, General Hux,” the humanoid thing said. “I was heating more scrambled hen eggs and I didn't see you come in. Would you like some extra? Or jam? Marmalade? Nut butter?”

“Just coffee,” Hux said. His head pounded and he pushed the coffee mug across the table towards the droid.

“Would you like creamer? Suga-”

“I take my coffee black,” interrupted Hux. He tapped his finger on the table. “And I'll take it now.”

“Of course, my Lord,” AO-40 said, and then mercifully fell silent as it poured the General a cup of hot, black coffee. When it finished, it bobbed in a quick bow and hustled off to tend to scrambled eggs. 

Hux swallowed a heated mouthful and felt it streak a warm trail down the centre of his torso with restrained relief. He curled his fingers around the mug and exhaled a sigh, relaxing ever so slightly into his chair. He unironically enjoyed the familiar, soothing taste of mediocre fleet coffee, the same unchanging flavour since he was a child. At least the Perseverance hadn't managed to suck the pleasure from that. 

He set the mug to one side and took the fork provided, then poked at the eggs. Dense, they didn't budge. 

“Lovely,” he muttered beneath his breath and took a forkful, then a bite. He chewed and then, tolerant of the inoffensive taste, swallowed. He could live with this. He wouldn't like it, but that had never been an obstacle before. He prodded the eggs again.

“Is there a problem with the food?” 

Hux lifted his eyes from his plate. Kylo Ren stared at him with eyes dark as inkblots, and the General thought he heard an accusation in the other man's tone. He shot Ren an unimpressed look, not intimidated. 

“Is that what you call it?” Hux asked, blunt. He raised his eyebrows, aware that the soldiers listened to their conversation in the silence. “Whoever forgot to requisition a galley droid should be flogged.”

Ren drew his head back a millimetre, though his expression didn't change. He narrowed his dark eyes. 

“There's nothing wrong with the food,” Ren insisted. “It's fine.”

Hux stared at him over the rim of his coffee mug, mechanical mind trying to cycle through realistic reasons for Kylo Ren to take offense over fleet rations. It didn't make sense. Unless...

“Oh,” Hux said, edge of his mouth quirking in a smile as he realised. It was Ren. Ren forgot. He'd been in charge of preparing the ship, and the great Lord Ren forgot an important detail, then tried to gloss over it. Now he was embarrassed at being criticized, even indirectly.

How charmingly, delightfully human for a man who fancied himself either a god or a monster.

Amused, Hux took another swallow of coffee. 

“I stand by my comment,” Hux said, droll. He met Kylo's stare with his own. 

Hux wasn't eager to protect Ren's reputation, but officer's etiquette dictated Hux and Lord Ren couldn't directly attack one another—at least, not in the presence of their lessers. It was one thing if they lobbed insults behind closed doors, it was quite another to engage in demeaning verbal pissing contests before an audience, like cheap entertainment. 

The clever soldiers would see through the banter, anyway.

“You missed dinner last night,” Kylo said, breaking the silence. His dark eyes were like bottomless wells, sucking in light from the room to drown. He forked some fried meat onto his toast and took a large bite, chewed, swallowed. “Why?”

“Yes,” said Hux, amenable to a subject change. He applied the edge of his fork to the meat on his plate, cutting it into smaller pieces. The fork clicked as he cut, like a clock. “I was working, and procured some critical intelligence regarding our objective. I would speak to you about that later. But speaking of last night's incident at dinner, did you receive my message? You know, the one where I clarified my position on wasting valuable resources needlessly?”

Kylo grew still as he realised Hux had pivoted the conversation out of his hands. The dark haired man had intended a certain direction, and the redhead didn't play along. Even a General had no authority over a Lord, but through veiled criticism, Hux was establishing the power structure between them as lateral. A two-headed viper.

“I read your message, but nothing's been wasted,” Kylo deflected, annoyed and trying to change the subject away from chastising his behaviour. “The commander is fine.”

Down the metal table, Hux spotted heads turning from the corner of his eye. The soldiers became somehow more still as the they listened for news of their leader. 

“Fine?” inquired Hux, skeptical. “He was in a delta-wave coma last night, according to T-U1. One step above fungal.”

“He got better,” Ren said, taking another bite of meat and toast. He'd nearly polished off the entire slice and he licked a fleck of butter from his thumb. 

The redhead stared, fork in hand, waiting for the Lord to continue, but Ren continued eating his slice of toast and began work on his eggs. 

“Better? Ren, explain!” ordered Hux. 

Ren took a mouthful of tea to help him swallow.

“I checked up on him,” the Lord said. “I asked him how he felt, and he said he was fine.”

“You—checked up on him,” Hux said, wondering if the painkillers he'd taken earlier had been crazy pills. Nothing about the Lord Ren's behaviour in the past few days made any kind of rational sense, and Hux was beginning to feel infected by his lunacy. 

“And he said he was fine. So nothing's been wasted,” Kylo finished. 

Heads turned this way and that up and down the table, and for the first time voices burbled in muted conversation. Hux sat back in his chair and his mind churned as he tried to piece together the strange events. It seemed ridiculous to take the other man at his word.

“So you visited the man you hospitalised and asked him how he felt?” Hux asked, suspicious.

“He said he was fine,” Ren said, sitting back in his own chair. He didn't seem pleased to be so openly doubted. “I just told you that.”

After what you did to him, Hux wanted to say, he would have said he was a womp rat to make you leave.

But Hux didn't say that. That would have been degrading for both of them with their audience. Speechless, Hux sucked on his canine and held his tongue. 

“I'll have to visit the commander myself,” the redhead said after a long moment. “To witness this miraculous recovery.”

“Hn,” Kylo grunted, and wiped the corners of his mouth with his paper serviette. He shifted, done with his meal and smirked at Hux. “I'm sure he'll be honoured.”

“Wouldn't you be?” 

Kylo shot the other man a dark look, unappreciative of having his own sarcasm met with further sarcasm. But there was nothing he could do; he had no authority over the General. They'd been made partners. Besides, the redhead had eleven loyal troopers on his side.

Hux gazed at him, coffee mug in hand, serene. 

“Bring me that intelligence once you've finished,” Kylo said, picking up his folded leather gloves. He turned away.“I'll be waiting for you in the conference room. We have work to do, General.”

“Hn,” agreed Hux. The corners of his mouth twitched. He'd come out ahead in this conversation. “I'll see you there.”

The redhead popped a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed as the Lord crossed the cafeteria, then exited through the sliding doors. The doors closed and around him, soldiers visibly relaxed. 

“LX-7112,” Hux said after he'd swallowed, tone thoughtful. “Come here.”

7112, the tall executive officer who'd helped carry his leader to the medibay, stood from the table and crossed over to his General. He saluted. 

“General,” LX-7112 said. 

“Check on BN-6693,” Hux said carefully. “And report to me afterwards. If you find anything odd, come to me first. Don't report it right away. Is that understood?”

The dark skinned man nodded. 

“Yes, General,” he said. 

“That will be all. Dismissed,” Hux said. He sat back in his chair as the executive officer turned and headed towards the door, thoughtful. He'd have to keep his eye on that situation. Something wasn't right. Ren was hiding something.

The General took his fork in one hand and pushed the remainder of his greasy breakfast around in a circle. He needed to finish. He'd be hungry by ten if he didn't, and he'd need his strength to deal with the dark haired man and his headache. Hux exhaled, started to shovel food into his mouth, and thought of the jar of painkillers on his shelf. 

No. Stop those thoughts.

He wasn't going to lean on drugs to make it through the day. They made him loopy. He needed his wits.

Hux forced down the last bite of eggs. His plate wasn't clean, but the thought of any more made the General sick. He took a paper serviette and wiped his mouth, stood, and tossed it onto the centre of the table. It was time to get to work.

As he left the cafeteria, he noticed the soldiers were much more relaxed without Kylo Ren's dark eyes judging their every move. Hux knew the mood might even approach cheerful once he'd gone. He took no offense at that; no one liked authority intruding on private time. It was just how things worked.

He rode to the second deck and made his way towards the conference room, eyes intent and focused. As the General approached the door, he felt cool, tingling adrenaline prickle at the base of this throat and on his palms. He touched fingers to the comforting lump of his blaster under his coat as he walked, aware of the danger ahead.

The rules of engagement differed without an audience to restrain Lord Ren, and there were no soldiers to protect Hux in the conference room. He was on his own if something went wrong. 

That's fine, Hux thought grimly, steeling himself as he pressed the door panel. I'm not exactly helpless. If Lord Ren underestimates me, he's got a surprise coming. 

He stepped into the conference room and looked around for the other man. 

Kylo Ren sat at the far end of the long, polished wooden table and before him lay a handful of glowing data pads. The Lord looked up when the door opened, and his gaze was cool and focused. 

“General,” he said, tugging on the cuff of one black leather glove. “You mentioned critical intelligence.”

“Yes,” Hux said, stepping further into the room and around the end of the table. The redhead sensed no temper or danger. Evidently, the Lord Ren had been honest when he'd stated his intention to work. A fraction of tension eased from Hux. “I've received a copy of the Balakh Nah floorplans.”

The Lord Ren grimaced, as if he'd expected those words. 

“What?” Hux demanded, instantly suspicious. What did Ren know about his floorplans that Hux didn't? Had Ren corrupted his spy network? Pride flared in the redhead and he lifted his chin.

“I received some floorplans as well,” Ren said, and stacked one datapad atop another. He slid the small pile towards Hux. “And they're both different. If yours isn't different, too, I'll eat my cape.”

“Oh,” the General said, mollified. He moved forward to take the datapads and examine them. If both his and Ren's spy networks were corrupted, that indicated an entirely different set of problems. His eyes flickered back and forth as he read, then set them down. “You're right. They're all different.”

“I fucking hate the Hutt,” Kylo hissed, leaning back with obvious frustration in his voice. “I'm going to kill the next fat slug I see.” 

Hux exhaled and looked over to the dark haired man who stewed in his chair. When Kylo's rage wasn't directed at him or his property, he could appreciate someone who felt strongly about doing their job thoroughly. Hux could relate to Kylo's hatred of being stymied. It was just a shame that Kylo was unfamiliar with the concepts of discipline or professionalism. 

The General rubbed at his eye with one hand, head pounding in the artificial light. Focus.

“Well,” he said, clicking through probabilities in his mind, one by one. “Either our spies are all corrupt—and should be purged—, or they're faithful and the Balakh Nah is more secure than we anticipated. Which means it's hiding more than a single aging Rebel.”

“They also know we're interested in it now,” added Kylo. 

“Hn,” agreed Hux. He paced the length of the table as he considered their options. They had eleven troopers, a corvette, a few gliders, some mortars, a single cannon and various armaments. Not much. If the enemy was forewarned, their task was insanity. 

At the same time, the insanity was part of their plan's brilliance: no one would expect something so risky. The safe method would involve splitting a cruiser and escort from the fleet, but that would also give the Hutt ample time to clear the casino of anything interesting. 

“We can't turn back,” Hux said at last. “If they know we're interested we can't hesitate.”

Kylo looked up, pulled from his own thoughts by the General. 

“Who said anything about turning back?” he said, low voice always seeming somehow mocking to the redheaded man. There was just something about Ren's tone. “We can't stop now. We need to strike before they realise they're in danger. If we stay hidden and on course, we have a chance.”

Hux blinked, surprised at the Lord Ren's reason. He'd expected every step of the operation to be a fight, but they seemed to agree on major concepts and goals. They'd never worked this closely before, and the redhead hadn't anticipated cool strategy from the black haired man. Not when Ren left a trail of crippled underlings in his wake. It was unexpected and pleasant.

“Let's reconvene when we've made some strategies,” Hux suggested, conscious of the throbbing behind his temples. As productive as the meeting was, he had a feeling that his breakfast would be coming back up his throat and into the refresher. Hux didn't care for the distinction between migraine and headache most times, but this was a true and honest migraine. Halos gathered around light fixtures in blurred rainbows, and the redhead avoided looking directly at them. A shower and then darkness would help. 

“I think we should work together,” the Lord Ren said from his seat. 

“No,” Hux said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. His stomach clenched and he sucked in a deep breath, willed himself not to vomit, opened his eyes and dropped his hand. “I have a migraine.”

“A migraine,” repeated Ren, curious. 

“That's what I just said,” Hux snapped, losing patience. He swallowed, and willed his stomach to settle and for his pulse to stop stabbing his temples with each heartbeat. He needed a shower, then darkness. Hux turned to go. “If you'll excuse me.”

“Stop,” Kylo said when he was halfway to the door.

“What is it?” Hux said, halting. 

“Come here,” Ren ordered, holding out his hand. 

Hux shot the other man a puzzled look and stood where he was. What was Ren doing? Why did he hold out his hand? 

“Come here,” Ren repeated. 

“No,” retorted Hux. “Why?”

“Just come here for a second,” the Lord Ren said. “I'll fix your headache.”

“Oh, not a chance,” Hux scoffed. Did he think Hux was legitimately stupid? “I'm not letting you into my mind, Ren.”

“This is about the mission, General,” Ren said, deep voice low as he persuaded. “How much strategizing can you do while puking in the dark? I won't touch anything. I swear.”

Hux hesitated and the slight thaw in his resolve encouraged Kylo. 

“I can hurt, but I can also heal,” the dark haired man said, exerting the barest feather of Force across Hux's mind. He didn't dare try to directly interfere, but he could gently influence. He met Hux's eyes and re-extended his hand, then gestured to the nearest chair. “Sit. Please.”

The General lingered for a moment, but thought of an entire day 'puking in the dark' as the Lord Ren delicately phrased it. He crossed the room and Hux sank into the chair. He placed pale, spidery hands on his knees, uncertain of what was required. 

“So what are you going to do?” He asked, now at eye level with the dark haired man. 

“I'm going to fix your headache,” Ren said, gloved hand held between them with fingers gently spread. “It might feel strange at first.”

“And nothing more,” Hux pressed, stomach rolling with a fresh wave of nausea. If he puked on the Lord Ren's knees, he suspected he'd see an end of the other man's calm, reasonable face. 

“Nothing more,” agreed Ren, starting to concentrate. “Close your eyes.”

The air between the two men quivered and dropped, an ultra-low hum challenging the gentle thrum of the engines. Hux, uncertain if he really felt the hum or if it was just another migraine induced illusion, continued to gaze at the Lord Ren. 

“Close your eyes,” repeated Kylo, and waited until Hux reluctantly obeyed.

“Alright,” breathed Ren, eyes sliding into soft focus as concentrated. The witch gathered himself. Mindful to make the experience as mild as possible, he gently pierced a spike of Dark Force into Hux's brain. 

Hux inhaled at the alien sensation. The vibration in the air moved into his body and settled into his bones as a deep buzz. Was this the Force? It didn't feel healing. It felt like turbulence of the worst kind. He felt exposed with his eyes closed and mind open.

Ren worked fast. He would cure Hux's migraine, of course, but he would also take advantage of this opportunity to glance over the General's mind. He couldn't access anything deeper than surface level without the other man noticing, but there were still interesting things to see. 

Kylo thumbed through Hux's general impressions of him, pleased when he felt Hux's nervousness before entering the conference room, less pleased when he felt Hux's amusement at breakfast. It was diverting, but not what Kylo had come to find. 

Where were the redhead's fantasies? 

Everyone had them, Kylo knew, confident that if he looked, sexual thoughts would come spilling forth. Most human minds defaulted to fantasies of some kind when idle, in Kylo's experience, and it usually didn't take much prodding. 

Kylo's perception tumbled through the tall clouds of idle thoughts billowing in the General's mind, looking for the dense, potent energy of sexuality. The General, an educated man, possessed clear yet complicated thoughts with the ability to repress well; Kylo would have to look carefully. 

He soared and nudged through fluffy, half-remembered impressions of the greasy breakfast, plans regarding various underlings, and ghostly impressions of pill bottles, but found nothing he could confidently call 'sexual'. Hux's mindscape was oddly sterile of personal fantasies.

“Where--” muttered Kylo aloud, unaware he had spoken. His brow creased as he concentrated and the hum deepened to a low, baritone vibration.

Time was running out. Kylo turned in desperation to Hux's thoughts of the troopers. Maybe, the Lord thought, Hux liked one of them. Maybe Hux had a type. Something. Anything to go on.

But there was nothing.

Thoughts and impressions flashed across Hux's mind quick enough to snatch his breath away. Nothing hurt, and his headache did seem somewhat better, but the alien feeling of someone rifling through his thoughts was unmistakable. It took concentration to speak through the migraine and the unholy hum, but the redhead managed. 

“Ren,” he said, teeth gritted. “You said you wouldn't look. Get out.”

“I'm looking for what will fix your migraine,” Kylo lied. “I'm almost done.”

Where, he wondered with frustration, was Hux's fucking sex drive? Did he have one? Kylo's plan to use sexual fantasies as a mental wedge wouldn't work if the other man didn't fantasize. But who didn't fantasize? It was impossible. Hux must have repressed them, and who did that?

Kylo switched to Plan B: figure out how to start Hux's sexdrive from inactive.

“I think this is it,” the Lord Ren said, playing dumb as he extended his influence down the other man's brainstem. Fixing the migraine itself was simple, and Ren took a moment to calm the frazzled nerves responsible. Job done, he didn't withdraw, and remained in the redhead's mind. “Is that better?”

Tension drained from Hux's expression as his headache and nausea evaporated like mist before a fire. He nodded. 

“Much. Are you finished?” the General said, unable to disguise the relief in his voice. He shifted forward, as if to rise from his seat, and started to open his eyes.

“It'll come back if I don't fix it,” Kylo warned. “Stay sitting. Eyes closed.”

Hux twitched as a bolt of warmth pulsed down the nape of his neck and between his shoulderblades. The buzz infected his entire body now, inside and out, and his skin prickled pleasantly. He sucked in a breath, chest moving deeper than before, and the bolt of fire spread outwards from the base of his spine. Slowly, he sank back in the chair, eyes closed.

“Just fix it, Ren,” the smaller man said, but there was no steel in his voice.

“Does this hurt?” Kylo asked, ignoring his question, voice as deep as the vibration in Hux's bones.

A warm wave passed over Hux again like a full body purr, and again the redhead sucked in a deep, cleansing breath. Instead of a migraine, Hux felt light and dizzy from relief. His arms and legs relaxed like sunwarmed honey as he sagged in his chair. It felt so good not to be in pain. 

“No...” Hux murmured.

But more than just relief from pain was happening. The warmth in Hux's lower torso grew more intense and more focused, and the General's brow furrowed as his heart thudded and bloodflow shifted to gather between his legs. 

That shouldn't be happening, Hux thought, this wasn't an appropriate time for that. Hux hastily set to work repressing the pleasurable sensations; clothing on his inner thighs, a growing tightness between his legs and the satisfactory way it felt to take a deep breath. He collapsed feeling after feeling, shoving them one by one into the back of his mind.

Enflamed and encouraged by Kylo, the feelings squirmed free. 

Hux switched to ignoring the sensations, but his attempts not to think of them supplied the same energy as willingly doing so; the General was engaged in a hopeless battle with mental quicksand. He danced away from the feeling of blood pooling in his cock, mortified, but unable to stop it. The redhead squeezed his eyes closed harder.

“Ren, stop,” he said, voice rough. “Something's wrong. Stop.”

“Why?” asked Ren, and there was another wave of a simmering purr. “Does it feel bad?”

Hux sucked in another deep breath. The redhead's eyes cracked open and he took in the man sitting across from him. Kylo's hand hovered between them, focusing power as he concentrated on his bewitchment. 

“Stop,” Hux spat. Internally, he grabbed onto everything about Kylo Ren he despised: his arrogance, his lack of control, his disrespect, his bullshit 'powers', his gawky height, and the attention he received from Snoke. Hux concentrated on those things and tried to ignore the his hardon. It didn't help. He was desperately aroused and looking at his rival's face.

“Why?” Kylo asked, leaning forward and gazing intently into the other man's pale eyes, swallowing every detail of the redhead's discomfort. “You look like you're enjoying yourself.”

“Stop or else!” Hux rasped. He never should have allowed Ren into his mind. Anger burned in the redhead's chest as hotly as the blood in his veins, and Hux's aroused mind snagged on the fine angles of Kylo's cheekbones, and the long lashes around his beautiful ink-black eyes. 

Kylo tilted his head. 

“You really think my eyes are beautiful?” he said, then seemed to correct himself as Hux hissed in outrage. “I didn't mean to interrupt. You were threatening me. You were saying 'or else'. I'm curious—or else what, General?”

“Or else you'll fail this fucking mission and return to Snoke empty handed!” snapped the redhead. He glared at Kylo, then stared pointedly at the hand held between them, then back to the other man's eyes. “So stop it.” 

Kylo hesitated, and Hux pressed his advantage. He dug deep, speaking with every ounce of authority and command he held inside.

“Didn't think of that, did you? Just like you didn't think of the galley droid,” Hux added, tone accusing. “You can't think of everything. You need my help, Ren, and you won't get it acting like this, or by butchering my brain. So let go, play nice, and we'll forget this ever happened.”

Kylo's eyes narrowed, and Hux didn't need the Force to know he'd angered the other man. Pressure squeezed Hux, compacting his lean shoulders inwards and narrowing his throat, and for a moment the General thought he'd gone a step too far— Until Ren released him. 

“Guh!” gasped Hux as control of his body returned abruptly. He swayed and gripped the arms of his chair to steady himself. Both the air and Hux's bones had lost the ultra-deep hum, and the room seemed silent without it. 

Hux exhaled, savouring the feeling of complete control again. He hunched forward, eyes closed as he swiftly packaged, then buried, every pleasant feeling. He felt ragged and raw, and wanted to escape to his quarters. He pushed himself to his feet and stalked towards the door. Mortified, exhausted, confused and furious in equal portion, the General slapped at the door panel, and glanced over his shoulder.

Kylo seemed unconcerned. He sat in his chair and scrolled through a datapad, as if the past ten minutes hadn't happened. When he felt Hux's eyes on him, he looked up. 

Indignant anger filled Hux. He was a General, and Kylo had either tried to make a pass or an assassination attempt. Hux couldn't be sure which, and wasn't sure which one outraged him more. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Hux hissed at last, and closed the door. 

He didn't hear Kylo's bark of amused laughter, and if he had, it wouldn't have helped his mood.


	5. that is not me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Show, don't tell.  
> 2\. This chapter contains explicit, rough BDSM stuff as a prelude to future themes and chapters. Check the tags, please.

Friction  
Chapter 05: that is not me

 

Hux fled the conference room and strode down the hall to get as far from Kylo Ren as physically possible. It wouldn't be far enough. The ship wasn't that large. 

He knew he was fleeing, he knew he was somehow wounded, he knew he hadn't demonstrated strength but only a wicked, survivalist cunning, and he hadn't left on a strong note. Hux was furious, too, or at least that's what he called it. His heart thudded and his head swirled. His stomach churned again, but not because of any headache. 

Hux halted before the elevator and slammed his palm onto the call button. He glanced over his shoulder, aware that Ren was still in the conference room. He could feel the black haired man's presence like an overlarge shadow, as hulking and tall as the man himself. 

Anxiety prickled the back of Hux's neck. He imagined the shadow stretched long, wicked fingers down the corridor towards him as he waited. Every second he lingered increased the odds of the Lord Ren appearing. Hux turned back to the elevator and ground his palm into the plastic call button, teeth gritted. He was running. He could admit it. 

Finally, mercifully, the doors parted. Hux stepped through and let them close behind him. He pressed the button for the second deck, then stepped back and leaned the wall. The elevator hummed around him, a soothing rumble, and the redheaded man allowed himself to breathe. His eyes flickered closed. What was he going to do? Worry bubbled in Hux's throat. How could one fight Ren's powers?

Treat this as a battle, Hux counselled himself. Asses the damage, determine the field of engagement, and then devise a counter. Don't give up.

When he considered the previous day in that light, Hux would have said he'd just received a direct hit. He'd exchanged minor verbal fire with the other man at breakfast, but Ren scored a broadside strike in the conference room with his mind trick. Unfortunate and unpleasant, true, but Hux was far from conquered. Pride flickered in his heart at that, warming and comforting. Ren hadn't won, not yet.

He opened green eyes as the comfortable elevator's hum stopped. The doors slid open and Hux paced out, down the corridor towards his door. He didn't particularly want to retreat, but he needed to regroup without interference, and his quarters were the only place on the ship he wouldn't be interrupted.

Hux entered his suite and locked the door, then paused a moment and engaged the physical security clamps for good measure. He looked at the door, confident that Kylo couldn't reach him. Even if he tried, Hux could summon eleven angry troopers, all eager to revenge their injured friend. Hux was safe, for the time being. 

“Ugh,” he sighed, and rubbed a hand across his face. This trip was turning into a mess, and Hux didn't like messy things. He liked things orderly, neat and precise. He liked schedules. He liked Five Year Plans. He didn't like... what had that even been?

“Uuuuugh,” moaned Hux, covering his eyes with his hand and wincing deeply. Allowing Kylo into his mind had been a grave mistake. If the migraine hadn't threatened some dozen hours of abject misery, he would haven't have been remotely interested. 

The feel of unfamiliar clothes itched at the General's body as regret weighed his mind, and he pulled the cape from around his shoulders. He turned, hung the thing on a hook embedded in the wall and paused for a moment as a thought ran through his mind. 

Surely Kylo Ren wasn't gay, right? That had 'just' been a strange assassination attempt, right? 

Hux's mind replayed through every major interaction he'd had with the other man since their mutual introduction. Had there been some undercurrent he'd missed? Some feeling in Ren that, once ignored, had fermented into a problem for Hux?

He played through his recollections again. As before, it all seemed like straightforward antagonism. He thought of rumours he'd heard, with the same answer. He couldn't remember anyone discussing Ren's private life. It had never come up. Why would it? Hux had never cared to know the details, and he'd thought the sentiment was mutual. He'd assumed they were rivals. Hux had never considered that Kylo Ren might be... attracted to him. 

The idea was a brick of dread in his gut. He didn't want to consider that.

Hux turned from his cape and turned from the possibility. He crossed over to the suitcase he'd forbidden AO-40 to unpack and knelt beside it. Slowly, he unzipped around the edges, then flipped the lid open. 

Three glass bottles of whiskey glinted in the cool interior lighting. They were each secured to the interior of the suitcase by fabric bands, and Hux wasted no time sliding the rightmost free. He hefted the bottle in his hand, then snagged a shotglass and shut the suitcase with his other. He needed something to take the edge off, and tea wasn't going to cut it. 

The General Hux stood and looked around his suite. The working desk had a moulded steel chair, but that was more functional than comfortable. The bed was a soft surface, but he would feel strange if he took a bottle of whiskey there. Hux compromised by snagging a data pad from the desk and seating himself on the edge of the bed, bottle on the bedside table. 

When he'd seated himself, Hux found it harder to keep unwanted thoughts at bay. The moment he sank down, distasteful questions and inconvenient feelings sprouted around the edges of his attention like weeds. Each on its own would have been uncomfortable, but as a crowd his feelings were nigh overwhelming. Why did this bother him?

“Ugh,” the pale man grunted, scrubbing his face with one hand and scrunching his eyes closed. 

So what if Kylo were gay? What would it matter? 

It wouldn't change anything, Hux thought as he poured himself a shot. It wouldn't matter in the least.

He poured only one shot. He wasn't trying to get drunk. He was using alcohol as medication. The time after a difficult period was the most opportune moment to gather one's thoughts and plan for the future, and one couldn't perform if they were overwhelmed. Some people used cigarettes or herbs, and Hux used the traditional human remedy of alcohol distilled to 55%. That's what Hux told himself, this and every time he drank to cope. It soothed the part of him that sneered or worried at his latent humanity.

Comforted by his usual mental justification, Hux threw back his shot with practised ease. 

“Hah,” he exhaled, mouth sweet with liquor. He coughed, setting the bottle back on the beside table. He wiped his stinging bottom lip with his thumb, and realised he'd bitten his lip when Kylo had... touched him. 

Ugh. Hux didn't want to remember it. He felt vaguely violated and repulsed by the thought of Kylo rifling through his erotic memories. There weren't many, but just worsened matters.

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose and braced his elbows on his knees. He needed to assume the other man had seen the truth so he could be better prepared for the next encounter. Hux inhaled, exhaled, and steadied his mind. He'd assume, going forward, that Kylo knew. 

Hux was a virgin. 

Sex was a common assassination route, and Hux had never had feelings for anyone who reciprocated or he felt he could trust. So he'd never had sex. It wasn't like opportunities had abounded in his life, anyway. 

His father, Brendol Hux, had been a hyper critical, excessively strict disciplinarian for the years he'd raised Armitage, and he'd never allowed the young man to even dream of such frivolous things as a girlfriend. A boyfriend would have been an instant disowning, if not actual murder. His father's plan did not include room for his son's happiness. Armitage's duty was to serve his father proudly, and die in battle if necessary. 

As a result, Armitage felt awkward around other people when there was no schedule to keep or job to perform. Small talk frustrated him with its uselessness, and civilians irritated the General with their undisciplined rambling. He'd never 'clicked' with anyone he trusted, besides. 

Which was fine, Hux reminded himself, he was better than most common folk. There was nothing wrong with him. 

This avenue provoked disturbing ideas. Hux turned his mind away. He realised, the thought long overdue, that he was deeply unsettled by the avenue of Ren's attack. He needed clarity. 

His mind clashed and stormed in his head; should he plan for the assault on the Balakh Nah, deal with potential corruption in his spies, or try to prepare for his next encounter with Ren? Each option had good reasons to recommend it, but like water condensing on a cool surface, Hux's thoughts beaded back to the feeling of deep violation. 

Ren knows I'm a virgin, Hux thought with a deliberate, slow pace. He knows and he'll try to use that against me. His gut clenched with embarrassment and dread.

Hux was at a disadvantage, he knew it, but no solution was obvious. He hissed out a breath and turned his attention away, and to his feet. Hux leaned down and removed one boot, then the other and placed them neatly beside his bed. He then moved a pillow and sat with his back against the wall, legs stretched down the length of his soft bed. He thunked his head back against the wall, and willed an answer to appear.

He was inexperienced when it came to sex. He couldn't banter, or flirt, or even respond to sexual advances with anything resembling confidence. He'd never had to, nor had he ever had a safe opportunity to practice. Stripping naked before someone else for some neurons popping was a waste of time, and sexuality itself was no more than a base biological need; undignified, messy and inexact. None of those qualities appealed to someone like Hux. 

For the first time, however, the redhead imagined Kylo Ren's reactions to his life and choices, and didn't imagine that the other man was much impressed. 

No doubt women flung themselves at Ren's feet for a chance at someone with such power and his distinguished bloodline—not to mention any number of willing men if Ren so chose. And he was a Force witch, too. Stars only knew what drug fueled, species blending, magical orgies had propelled Ren through his early twenties. 

Hux couldn't help but feel somewhat jealous of Ren's imagined life, and he looked down the length of his body with a feeling of dissatisfaction.

His emotions wouldn't settle, even when he examined them, Hux realised. He was just winding himself tighter and tighter instead of devising a way out of this mess. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his bottom teeth, frustrated.

Hux looked to the bottle on the bedside table, then reached out and poured himself another shotglass of whiskey. Caution was necessary after this point; more than two drinks and his judgment would become hazy instead of loosened. He'd skirt the limit, then.

He threw it to the back of his throat and swallowed, then ran his tongue around his gums as his throat burned. The redhead leaned his head back, gaze on the far wall and brow knitted. He waited, tense and conflicted, for something to change inside.

Hux touched his tongue to his bitten, sore lip as alcohol warmed a path through his chest. The cut ached sharply when his tongue prodded it, and the redhead found himself concentrating on the simple sensation. The whiskey dulled sharp pain to low, blurry warmth, and so he dragged his canine tooth through the centre of the cut to distract himself from his thoughts. They returned, relentless as the tide.

So what if Kylo Ren were gay? 

What would it matter?

Hux crossed his legs at the ankle, then switched which foot rested atop the other. He frowned, a tight bundle of unsettled tension and concentration. He hated to admit it, but there was something appealing about being admired by his rival. Hux didn't want to acknowledge it. but the thought, loosened by alcohol, dropped into his conscious mind with a splash. 

Was that true? Underneath it all, was Hux conflicted because deep down he was—what, flattered?! He snorted, dismissive, but the idea lingered.

I'm not interested! thought Hux, furious, embarrassed and unwilling to take ownership of his own feelings. He packed them down, but it was too late; he'd acknowledged them. They were beyond his conscious control. 

Hux, prideful man that he was, couldn't help but be flattered by the idea of his rival being attracted to him. There was something compelling about the concept, he was forced to admit, something appealing. An image occurred to Hux at that moment: Kylo Ren's cold, inky eyes, but soft and yielding, and focused on him. 

He shivered, legs stretched out across the bed, a strange feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. If Kylo Ren were hitting on him, then part of Hux might be intrigued. 

He dragged his canine through the cut again, annoyed with his own emotions. He hated the taste of blood, but he sucked on his lip and swallowed, punishing himself. It galled Hux that he was actually curious instead of revolted. 

Blood lingered in his throat and Hux absently wiped at his lip with one thumb. The pad returned wet, more red gathering on the General's mouth. He didn't notice, and he relaxed back against the steel wall with loose shoulders. 

Maybe, he considered, he wasn't actually intrigued. Maybe that was just residual arousal from the psychic grope. Maybe once his mind cleared, things would go back to normal. 

Hope sprouted in Hux's heart and the man perked, settling his mind on this potential as if it were a certainty. He'd been stimulated against his will and any new-found attraction was just leftover manipulation, he decided. And that's all. 

So how could he regain his normal self? 

The obvious answer was to just wait. But hiding away in his quarters for a day wouldn't give the impression of strength that Hux desired. It would only demonstrate to the entire crew who was in charge. Unacceptable. He'd have to find a faster method. 

The next answer was exercise. Weight lifting and a long jog would assuredly relieve tension, but... Hux looked over at the alcohol and shotglass on his bedside table. He'd started drinking. Drunken exercise was profoundly more unpleasant than sober exercise. He'd have to wait a couple of hours to sober up. 

The last option remained: his hand. 

Hux looked down the length of his body again, weighing the option in silence. He had a data pad, there were some tissues in the bedside table and he'd had two shots. If he wanted to try something as simple as jerking off to clear his head, now was a good time. It would be the fastest way to dispel whatever Ren had twigged in his brain.

He wasn't exactly in the mood, but that could be changed.

The redhead reached one hand to where the data pad lay and brought it back. He passed his thumb over the base, activating the main interface. The screen prompted him to log in and authenticate, which he did, and then waited as he was logged into his private, encrypted account within the computer system. 

Hux navigated through a labyrinth of protected file systems to reach a very specific set of subfolders. The internet wasn't an option during a stealth mission, so he would rely on a collection of his favourites he'd brought along.

The folders contained pictures, text stories, videos and holo-files, all ordered and tagged according to their contents. Some were milder and others were more explicit, but all the files related to some aspect of BDSM. 

Hux had never been able to get off to the vanilla crap. Everything about vanilla porn bored Hux; the fake hair and sets, the fake moans of fake pleasure and the fake bodies. He was interested when a couple had honest chemistry, but that was rare and he couldn't slog through all the misses to find a scarce few hits. With vanilla porn, most viewers wanted a fantasy and not reality. 

With the stuff the General favoured, however, every whimper and groan was genuine. There was something to be said for authenticity in Hux's view. 

He reached to the bedside table, opened the top drawer one handed and withdrew an earpiece. He fixed it into his left ear and paired it with the data pad. He selected a video he'd found just a few days before and skipped to a scene he enjoyed. It was two men, but that wasn't unusual for Hux. He was interested in a certain dynamic, not specific bodies. 

In the video, a blonde man knelt before a tall, muscular dom. The dominant man's hand reached down to adjust the bulge in his black pants as he stood, and his voice was gruff.

“You gonna be good?”

The smaller man looked up at the other man reverently, wrists bound by steel cuffs behind his back and erect cock dripping onto the floor between them. He nodded. The submissive leaned forward and nuzzled his face and cheek into the bulge with eyes flickered closed.

Hux watched both men shiver in pleasure, and the larger man's hand raked itself through the hair before him. He tangled his fingers in it, then suddenly dragged the other man's head away.

The submissive purred at the hair pull, mouth falling open in a delight gasp. 

“Harder! Sir, please,” begged the sub, hands tightening into fists behind his back. He sucked in a breath as the taller man yanked, harder, visibly thrilled to be controlled by a fist clenched in his hair. He looked up at the dom with worshipful eyes. 

The dom slapped him, the smack audible, and raised his hand for a second.

The sub made a sound that started as a gasp of shock and pain, and became a low groan of pleasure. Off balance, he tipped sideways with the force of the second slap, but didn't fall over with the steadying hand in his hair. The sub's hips bucked forward at the way this yanked on his scalp, and he moaned. He stared up again at the clothed man with tears in his adoring eyes.

“Sir, thank you!” he gasped, chest heaving. “Thank you! More? Please, sir?”

Hux pushed a hand under his tunic and unzipped his pants. His cock wasn't even half hard yet, but Hux could tell that the video was having the desired effect. His own heart was beating faster, and he swallowed every detail in the sub's reddening face and tearful eyes. Hux had slapped inferiors before, and he thoroughly enjoyed it every time. 

He rewound, watched the beginning of the scene again, then a third time, each time imagining thick, silky hair in his fist to yank and pull. 

Hux's cock twinged and again his canine found the cut on his lip. Hux bit gently, one hand stroking and squeezing as he watched. The pain in his lip helped him imagine the shock and pain of the submissive, so Hux savoured the sensation. He swallowed, eyes fixed on the data pad and hand stroking his stiffening cock. 

He let the video continue on the next repetition. 

The dom didn't slap the other man again, but instead yanked on the sub's hair to get his attention. 

“I'll say this once: If I feel teeth,” he said, free hand tugging open his belt. “You'll fucking regret it. Understand?”

The submissive nodded, eyes wide and handprints reddening his face. He looked from the other man's eyes to where his dominant's hand pulled his thick, stiff cock from within black pants. The dom wrapped his fingers around the base, smirking.

“Open your mouth,” ordered the man. 

The sub's jaw dropped eagerly, and the other man took hold of the kneeling man's head with both hands. It was obvious what was coming next, and the sub's chest heaved in excitement. He closed his mouth to swallow briefly, but dropped it open again and squirmed on his bare knees. 

The dom tilted the other man's head upwards, looked into his eyes, and spat into his mouth. 

Hux breathed out a laugh, hand moving faster on his hard cock and canine sinking deeper into his lip. That was a nice touch. He liked that. His breath hitched as he replayed the buildup slaps and spitting two and then three times.

He'd always wanted to try something like that, but he doubted he'd ever get the chance. Hux faced a dilemma with his desires: anyone he'd get satisfaction from abusing wouldn't tolerate it, and anyone who would tolerate it wouldn't satisfy him. He couldn't even imagine a relationship that could included this kind of thing and survive. That left prostitutes and slaves, but Hux took no interest in abusing people so powerless and beneath himself. There was no challenge.

The video played on, and the dominant man pushed the head of his cock into the kneeling man's mouth, fingers laced through thick blonde hair. The dom groaned, eyes narrowing in pleasure, and the sub's hands flexed and bunched behind his back. The tall man pulled out and then pushed his hips forward, burying more of his thick length down the other man's throat. He face fucked the sub, who moaned and gasped when he had the chance to breathe.

Hux puffed out a breath, eyes glazed and focused on the screen, hand squeezing and stroking his own shaft as his mind replaced himself in the scene. He imagined he had a submissive so willing and eager, and Hux pictured looking into bright, eager eyes when he slapped their face. 

They became inky black eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes.

His mind replaced the kneeling man with Kylo in an instant, and Hux's innards lurched with desire. He sucked in a whine, hand tensing around his cock. He'd almost finished just from the thought. Hux gasped, hand not stilling. He knew he shouldn't, but if he pursued the thought just a little further—

Hux imagined Kylo on his knees; cock hard, lips parted, expression eager for Hux to spit in his mouth and slap his face. 

“Oh, fuck—“ hissed Hux as he felt an orgasm well up within him. He sucked in a breath, jaw clenched.

Imagine how his hair would feel in my fists, the redhead thought, Imagine if I buried my cock down his throat and choked him with my load. 

Hux tensed as he came, hand gripping and stroking his cock as it throbbed out pulse after pulse of his seed. It spilled over his hand as he milked himself and shivered, a low groan echoing in his chest. 

He breathed, and enjoyed a pleasant tingle all over his body from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his head. Hux didn't think anything in those moments. He couldn't. He just stretched out his legs and let his chest rise and fall while his mind regathered itself. 

His semen cooled on his hand, and that prompted Hux to finally stir. Still not entirely together, Hux blindly reached for the tissues on the bedside table. He grabbed one, swabbed his other hand and then looked down his body to see the mess on his chest. Hux sighed, annoyed at the prospect of changing his clothes, and tossed the soiled tissue into the trash. He'd incinerator it later. He put himself back into his pants and flipped his tunic down once more.

Hux pulled the earpiece from his left ear and dropped it onto the bedside table, then thumbed closed the data pad and set it neatly beside the miniature speaker. Now that the tension and arousal were gone, he felt tired. 

Was he more clear headed, though? 

Honestly, Hux had his doubts and was beginning to think his plan to regain his senses hadn't worked. He'd just cum to the thought of face fucking his rival. What's worse, it seemed appealing even after an intense orgasm. 

So whatever Ren did to my brain was permanent, Hux thought, refusing to entertain the possibility that Ren had awakened something already present. The redhead ignored that option, and comforted himself with the idea that this attraction was entirely alien. It wasn't him. 

He'd have to force Ren to undo his magic. Somehow.

He also needed to develop an viable, alternative plan to extracting Calrissian from the Balakh Nah casino in the next few hours.

Hux was tired, and he took this new problem and added it to the growing pile in his mind. Experience urged him to sleep off his frustration, and the red headed man slid down the bed till he laid with his head on a pillow. 

He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, but two shots and an orgasm had done their work.

Hux's eyes closed. 

He slept deeply almost all the way until dinner.


End file.
